Giroro & Natsumi Present: Space Invader, Gladiator
by LoveShattersWindows
Summary: When Natsumi thinks she's going to have a normal Spring Break with her friends, she gets abducted by alien traffickers who want to sell her into slavery. Will Giroro be able to save her? GiroNatsu. Rated M for violence and sexual content.
1. What about Spring Break?

_**I do not own Sgt Frog/Keroro Gunso or any of the characters within this fanfiction, with the exception of some alien races which might be based upon other animes/videogames. In those cases, I do not own the animes/videogames the characters are based upon, however I do own their names.**_

_**Also, to keep the fanfiction as realistic to the anime as possible, I inserted "Narrator Notes", most which are intended to be the Narrator of Sgt. Frog commenting on either the paragraph or dialogue it is placed within. Feel free to read it in the Narrator's voice; I intended it to be that way.**_

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><p><strong>GIRORO AND NATSUMI PRESENT: SPACE INVADER, GLADIATOR!<strong>

**CHAPTER 1: WHAT ABOUT SPRING BREAK?**

It was a warm summer day in Japan; the wind was gently swaying the blooming trees' flowers, making their petals flow towards the glowing sun _(Narrator Note: What, is Saburo narrating again?)_. It had been two years since the ARMPIT Platoon had first made contact with this strange planet they call Pekopon, setting forth their ever so unsuccessful invasion of the Earth. Most of the platoon had long since given up almost every shed of hope of conquering the world, turning their attention instead to daily activities, like Sgt. Keroro's "Comic Store Wednesday's" or Major Kururu's "New Invention Monday's" or even Corporal Giroro's "Clean Your Weapon Collection Everyday…Day". The only glimmer of hope they still held onto was usually doused by Keroro's daily failure invasion scheme. Needless to say, the platoon's moral was pretty low.

Two years on Earth meant two years of birthdays, meaning Natsumi was now 16 and as such her feminine form was beginning to fill out, increasing her friend's jealousy and Giroro's blind infatuation. Every day he would stare at the Hinata's living room wall clock through the glass sliding doors, counting the hours until his love came home from school, like a dog awaiting his master's arrival—diligent, with a hint of sadness.

"_Any minute now," _Giroro growled in his mind, secretly cursing the clock for keeping him from his love. Just then, the door slid open and shut, and the sound of light footsteps tapping across the wooden flooring caused the red space alien's heart to flutter twice as fast, turning his face hot pink from the increased blood flow. "Oh my sweet Natsumi, you're home early." Giroro drooled to the distance, his mind lost in his Natsumi-filled dream world.

"Sarg, I'm home!" the voice from inside yelled in an adolescent boy's tone. The realization that those were not Natsumi's footsteps or voice he heard, but her younger brother, Fuyuki's, filled the Corporal with heart-stopping embarrassment, as all the extra color from his cheeks left his body with haste. Where was Natsumi? She usually came home with her brother, unless she was running late. Yes, running late, that must be it, but why? What could be keeping her from the blissfully love-struck Giroro, or more importantly, making dinner for Fuyuki? Stay tuned and find out!

~ (20 Minutes Earlier) ~

At Natsumi's school, the bell had just rung and Natsumi was beginning to walk home with her two friends, Satsuki and Yayoi. They were discussing the events of today, the main topics being Natsumi's perfect dive in swimming, her perfect serve in volleyball, and well…anything the red-haired athletic goddess did perfectly. _(Narrator Note: Yeah, they're kind of fan girls.)_ And then came the big topic, what was everyone doing for Spring break! Natsumi's face flushed when she got asked. What _was_ she doing? Last year, her mother, brother, Momoka, and she had all gone to the spa for a day. Is that what there were going to do this year too? The topic hadn't even been brought up; what if her mom couldn't get off work? Then she would be stuck at home keeping those stupid frogs in line. Not a fun way to spend two weeks off from school. After struggling to find a socially acceptable answer, and failing, Natsumi sighed, accepting defeat, and gave her boring answer.

"Probably nothing."

The two girls cheered, a response much to Natsumi's astonishment, "Then you should totally come with us to Osaka, Satsuki's dad owns a timeshare there, and since her brother's not coming this year, there's totally like an extra spot!" Yayoi chimed with excitement, holding hands with Satsuki as they bounced up and down.

Satsuki cut in, "Oh will you come, Natsumi-chan? Please, please! We'll like die if you don't!"

Natsumi froze. She hated being put on the spot, especially like this. Of course, she wanted to come, but it was such short notice, after all, Spring break started the day after tomorrow! Who would fix Fuyuki's breakfast, lunch, and dinner? Who would keep those space toads in line? Well, Fuyuki _was_ almost 14; he should be able to fix his own food, and who cared about those dumb frogs anyways? They weren't _her_ problem.

"Sure, I'll talk to my mom tonight!" Natsumi smiled, waving goodbye to her friends as they parted ways. _"A vacation would be nice…"_

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><p>Back at the Hinata residence, Giroro was nearly losing his mind. It had been an hour after Fuyuki had gotten home, and still there was no sign of Natsumi. Fuyuki was up in his room reading paranormal reports, Keroro was playing with his stupid Gundam toys, Kururu was in his lab doing God knows what, Tamama was with Momoka stuffing his face with junk food no doubt, and Aki was at work <em>(Narrator Note: Poor Dororo, always being forgotten)<em>. Was Giroro the only one who cared that Natsumi wasn't home yet?

Just before he was about to go looking for her on his skimmer, the sound of the front door opening and closing could be heard, again, as could the sound of delicate footsteps tapping across the floor…again. This earned Giroro's immediate attention, pressing his chubby red face against the glass door, trying to see what had kept his summer beauty so long.

From his position outside, he could peer into the kitchen, eyeing his oblivious love's feminine form from foot to head. He could see she was still in her school uniform, her patented white socks slumping at her ankles, revealing that bony mound of tan skin. His eyes traveled up the teen's legs, her muscular calves and thighs reminding Giroro of his warrior princess' fighting abilities. Her hips had filled out, increasing her bottom's delectable roundness, which was just covered by a skimpy piece of Pekoponian fabric called a skirt. Her uniform's button-up blouse had two of its buttons undone, showing the beginnings of her nearly C-cup cleavage, and although Giroro couldn't see this, he could see the side of her bust as she unloaded a bag of groceries. Groceries! That's the reason for her lateness. He had gotten lost in her beauty and forgotten the reason he had gone to the door in the first place.

"_Bless you Natsumi. You're both a tease and a saint."_ Giroro thought, sighing contently as he pushed himself back from the glass.

Inside, Natsumi continued to unpack the supplies for tonight's dinner, unaware of Giroro's presence, as usual. Tonight, she was making beef stew, a Hinata favorite, as well as the Sergeant's. He had been doing a good job around the house lately and hadn't been stirring up _too_ much trouble, so she decided to reward him, if not for the sole purpose of preventing one of his "you-never-do-anything-nice-for-me" episodes. As she put the last item into the refrigerator and headed into the living room to do her homework, she couldn't help but think of Satsuki and Yayoi's proposal—a whole two weeks with her friends at the beach, without any frog aliens or any other weird things, just relaxation and fun in the sun. What a nice though. But could it be possible? Would her mother say yes? And what on Earth was the answer to this math problem? If only she could call her mom at work and ask (about the spring break thing, not the math problem), but her mother was always so busy, and she didn't want to disturb her.

After homework it was time to begin dinner. Although Nikujaga was an easy meal to make, it required about 30 minutes of prep time. Natsumi got out a large pan and coated the bottom with oil, turning the stove on low to bring the oil to a nice, smooth simmer. She added the thinly sliced beef to the pan, letting it brown slowly as she began to slice the vegetables. An onion, carrot, green onion, and a cup of potatoes needed to be sliced before she could add them to the stew.

Outside, Giroro had finished collecting his firewood from the fallen branches around the bushes next door. As he was breaking them apart to fit in his fire pit, he looked back to Natsumi, who was still cutting vegetables in the kitchen. But there was something…different about her. She was…crying? But why? He had only been gone for a few minutes, what could have happened in that time to change her mood so drastically? The Corporal threw down his firewood, and ran into the kitchen, hell bent on finding the culprit who caused his Natsumi such pain, and silencing him.

"Natsumi!" he called, getting her attention as she peered down over the countertop, tears dripping from her eyes.

"Oh hey Toad, what's up?" Her voice sounded cheerful, but not enough to fool the Keroronian solider.

"You're crying. Who did this to you?" His voice was assertive yet calm, as he clenched his fists, plotting the violent torture he would bestow upon the degenerate who had hurt her. _"Hopefully it was that Mutsumi punk…"_

Natsumi's eyebrows cocked and she stared at the alien with a confused look, "What are you talking about? I'm cutting onions."_(Narrator Note: Cutting onions makes people's eyes water due to the sulfuric compounds contained within the onion peels, which is also the reason why they smell so bad. Seriously, tell your friends.) _

"Onions!" Giroro gonked, a cold chill coming over his body as he slumped down the side of the counter, realizing how much energy he had wasted over…onions.

Natsumi rolled her eyes, pushing the sliced vegetable to the side as she reached for the potato, peeling off the brown skin, "You know frog, I could use some help finishing dinner, if you want," the teen said in a very nonchalant tone, cutting the skinned potato in half.

This instantly perked up the solider, who sprung back to his feet with his newfound purpose, assisting his love. Trying to keep his cool exterior, he accepted Natsumi's offer with a, "Yeah, sure," before going immediately to work, taking over Natsumi's job of cutting vegetables while she switched to making the broth. To make this broth, she mixed together dashi, soy, sugar, sake, and a touch of mirin for extra flavor. Just as soon as she was done with this, Giroro had finished his task and they poured the two mixtures into the saucepan, creating one delicious dish.

Giroro struggled not to blush, given how close he was to Natsumi. As he watched her broth soak into his vegetables, he couldn't help but think of how he wished to be those veggies, soaking up Natsumi's—_(Narrator Note: Seriously, who writes this crap?)_

"You done with those, Toad?" Natsumi asked, pointing to the knife and cutting board Giroro was still holding.

"What? Oh, yeah, er—sure." Giroro answered, surrendering his utensils as he snapped from his dreams.

Natsumi threw the dirty dishes in the sink, leaving more work for Keroro to do after dinner, "Well thanks for helping." She smiled, covering the stew to let it simmer, keeping it warm for dinner time.

"You're welcome…my love,"Giroro said quietly to himself, walking back outside to resume his previous task, breaking fire wood. He would need a good fire if he wanted to roast sweet potatoes for Natsumi tonight. He took one more look through the glass door, watching his red-haired wonder girl set the table for her family. A straight A student, athletic genius, household leader, and feisty warrior, _'Natsumi, you really are…something else.'_

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><p><em><strong>The first chapter is complete! Please rate and review, I need comments and critiques to keep this puppy going! ^_^ Oh, and in case you were doing the math of Fuyuki's and Natsumi's ages and going…"that's not right," let me straighten that out now. I'm going by their ages in the <strong>__**manga**__**, not the anime, to try to make Giroro not AS pervy, lol. In the manga, Natsumi begins in the 9th grade, as age 14. She turns 15 at the end of that year on Dec 2nd, and the following year she turns 16 (as she is in my story), so I SUPPOSE this could be the start of their third year on Peokopon, but then again they didn't invade on New Year's so…Wait, too much information? Ok, I'll stop there. Anyways give me comments! See ya!**_

_**PS: Natsumi's hair is red in the manga. ^.-**_


	2. Protect and Serve, De Arimasu

**C****HAPTER**** 2: ****G****IRORO'S**** N****EW**** M****ISSION**** – ****P****ROTECT**** AND ****S****ERVE ****(****D****E**** A****RIMASU****)****!**

"18:00 hours: General Aki reports home, where she is greeted by her two children and Sgt. Keroro, whom, after a short discussion, is received into the Pekoponian's arms. Further discussion ensues before the sergeant disperses." Giroro wrote in his field journal, watching the action unfold through the glass door. If headquarters ever asked for his journal, his platoon would surely be a laughing stock, seeing as then would find how little they had actually accomplished in over 2 years.

They should have conquered Pekopon by now, or if _nothing_ else, the Hinata household. But Keroro seemed to have some pride in the life of an indentured servant, something that made the Corporal's blood boil. How could anyone be content living the life of a slave? If only he was the platoon leader. Images flashed through the Keronian's mind as he imagined what that day would be like, heading the ARMPIT platoon…

_ Cities destroyed, fire encasing abandoned vehicles as Giroro took point, crushing all opposition with his laser rifle. Military would fall before him, government would crumble, and chaos would overwhelm the Earth, destroying the fragile homeostasis of human existence. He imagined the streets of Tokyo, littered with burnt bodies and the cries of the horrified and wounded filling the night sky as they fled from their alien invaders. How feared he would be; the people of this world and his would tremble at his name, Corporal Giroro, Conqueror of Pekpon! _(Narrator Note: Man he's a sick guy.)_ Suddenly, his daydreams went darker, turning into nightmares. He imagined himself meeting Natsumi on those ruined streets, her clothes stained with Fuyuki's blood, as the dead teen's head sat in her lap, her hands trembling over his cold body. The warlord's shadow engulfed his enemy's pathetic frame, her tear-filled eyes staring at him, as he placed his beam pistol between her eyes with a smirk._

"_G-Giroro…" her voice shook, staring into his sadistic crimson eyes, "Giroro…"_

_He squeezed the trigger._

"HEY, STUPID FROG!" Natsumi yelled, awakening the solider from his day-mare, and watching him fall off of his cinderblock, crashing to the ground with a thud, "I called you like three times, are you coming or not?" She said, impatiently tapping her foot.

"Wha-?" Giroro asked, staring at the sky from his position on the cool grass. Had he really just envisioned that happening? His mind was still stuck on his dreams, trying to decipher what exactly had occurred within him. One moment he was daydreaming about being the hero of Keron, and in the next moment he became the slayer of his beloved. He could never kill Natsumi, or injure her in any manner whatsoever, not even emotionally, nor did he ever want to. If that was the only way to win the hearts and minds of his kindred, then part of him (a small part albeit) hoped that Keroro's invasion plans would keep failing indefinitely.

"Are you eating with us, or staying out here? I need to know now so I can set the table…" Natsumi asked, her foot tapping increasing in pace as her temperament grew. As the alien continued to stare at the dimming sky, lost in trying to decode his own mind, the red-head eventually gave up, giving an exaggerated sigh before saying, "Whatever, stay out here then." With that the Pekoponian girl went back inside, shutting the door behind her.

"Wait Natsu-(SLAM)…mi," Giroro called, finally fully awakened from his dreams. He watched his love fumble through the dishes, skipping over his plate as she reached for Sgt. Keroro's Gundam glass instead, a hint of frustration still gleaming in her luscious brown eyes, "Fuck…" he breathed, repositioning himself on his cinderblock chair.

Inside, Fuyuki, Aki, and Keroro gathered at the set table, their mouth's drooling at the smell of Natsumi's (and Giroro's) beef stew creation. Natsumi went around with the pot, scooping up the food and placing it in everyone's bowls before taking her place at the table. Keroro jumped in excitement when his bowl was filled, revealing the sumptuous beef dinner, and did his special "delicious cow-flesh" dance in approval. Everyone, except Natsumi, laughed at him, fueling his comedic attitude at the table. Natsumi had more important things on her mind than watching a stupid frog dance. She had to ask her mother about the spring break trip with Satsuki and Yayoi, and she had to do it right too, or her mom might say no. The frustration of trying to find the right words to say made her unnaturally quiet at the table, as well as being the last one to finish, without fully emptying her meal. Aki took notice in this, being her mother and all, and waited until Fuyuki had departed to his room and the sergeant had started on dishes to ask her daughter what was wrong.

"Sweetie?" Aki asked, her chest bouncing as she knelt beside Natsumi, "Dear what's wrong?"

Her mother's question shocked the young woman, as she realized she had been so worried about how she was going to approach her predicament, she had forgotten to eat, her bowl still half full with cold food. At least there would be some leftovers. She looked up at her mother, moving back a bit as the woman's breasts seemed to get in the way of everything, including their conversation.

"Nothing's 'wrong' mom, I just…well…can I ask you something?" Natsumi started off, biting her lower lip softly.

"Sure honey, anything."

"Well…" This was it. She had to choose her words in a precise manner and proceed with caution. The fate of her spring break hung in the balance of her next few, carefully chosen words. All she had to do now was execute them. The pressure built inside, waiting to explode as the teen opened her mouth to speak, "…CAN I GO WITH SATSUKI AND YAYOI ON SPRING BREAK?" _(Narrator Note: Great "carefully" chosen words...) _

Aki's eyebrows cocked as she tried going back over what her daughter had yelled. Spring break? That was _this_ week? Her work had kept her so busy she didn't even know what day it was. And who were these Satsoi and Yayuki people? She hadn't recalled ever meeting them other than in passing, or ever meeting their parents.

Natsumi was telling her mother wasn't buying it. Time to move to phase two—begging, "Please please mom? They're friends from school and Satsuki's dad has a timeshare in Osaka, and they'll be like…lots of parental chaperons and it will only be a two weeks. Fuyuki can take care of himself now anyways, he's like 14, mom. Please!"

"Well…" Aki looked at her daughter's pleading face, almost pitying the young girl. She was such a sweet child, always getting good grades, and constantly being an active role model, not only at school, but also to Fuyuki and even to her at times. _'This would be a perfect way to reward her for her hard work,'_ Aki thought, giving Natsumi a motherly smile, "Sure dear. Why not?"

Natsumi nearly leaped from her chair with excitement and astonishment, "Thanks mom, you're the best!" she beamed, rushing off to her room to call Satsuki and pack. Her feet pounded up the stairs as she ran with excitement, hoping it wasn't too late to claim her spot. "This is going to be the best spring break ever!"

Back in the kitchen, Aki was pondering over her decision, thinking about how much her baby was growing up. '_I don't even know their parents, should I be entrusting my child with them? Two weeks is a long time away from home too. Although, she's a smart girl, I should just trust her._' Aki nodded to herself, looking out her glass door to see the red space alien, Giroro, roasting sweet potatoes over an open flame, _'Then again, Osaka's rather far…'_ She wondered over to the door, gently sliding it open and sticking out her torso, bust-first.

"Hey sweetie, got a sec?" she asked the space invader, a sweet yet seductive smile plastered to her lips.

Mother Aki's sudden appearance had thrown Giroro off, nearly burning one side of his roasted potato. He motioned for her to sit on his other cinderblock chair, the one Natsumi usually occupied when she came down for a potato. He made sure to also scoot away from her a bit as well, seeing as Aki's breasts had a tendency to take up too much space at times. The Pekoponian woman gave a small sigh, pondering over her words as she stared into the dancing flames.

"I know you're really protective of my daughter, and I wanted to ask for a favor." A favor? Involving Natsumi? This grabbed the corporal's immediate attention. "Well, she's going on a trip alone for once, and I just want to make sure she's safe. Do you think you could like…keep an eye on her for me? From a distance, of course. I don't want her to think I'm spying on her or anything…" _(Narrator Note: Even though that was totally what she was doing.)_

Giroro got to watch Natsumi, 24/7, without it being considered stalking? He rose to attention, saluting "General" Aki as he accepted the mission with enthusiasm, thickly coating it in a militaristic tone. "Orders understood, ma'am. Protect the target without compromising my identity."

Aki hugged him gently, careful not to lose his face within her bosom, "Thanks hun, I knew I could ask you," she said before departing back into her house. Unlike Natsumi, Aki's hug wouldn't faze him, watching the Pekoponian retract into her niche before settling himself back by the fire. _'I hope Natsumi grows up to have the looks of her mother…'_ he thought, thinking of the girl's constantly growing bust size. From Natsumi's balcony, he could hear the faint rustling of clothes and the unzipping of suitcases. He could tell by all the traffic she was truly excited, and her happiness made him happy in his own way. He would protect Natsumi, no matter what.

Back inside the kitchen, Keroro had overheard everything. Washing the last dish, he let out a manic chuckle, his new "invasion" scheme coming to light in his tiny brain.

"Geeero gero gero gero…once we put this new plan into motion, nothing will be able to stop us!" Keroro proudly announced to himself, posing in his washing apron and gloves.

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><p><em><strong>So the new chapter is up! What do you think? What could Keroro possibly be hatching within his brainless, adorable head? Stay tuned to find out!<strong>_

_**PS: I'm working on two big papers in school, so the next chapter might not be till next week. ^_^' Bummer! As always, send reviews!**_


	3. Schemes and Daydreams

**C****HAPTER**** 3: SCHEMES AND DAYDREAMS!  
><strong>

Deep underneath the Hinata residence, something delectably evil was brewing within the mind of one Sergeant Keroro, who had assembled his platoon within the underground headquarters for a late-night invasion meeting. However, everyone in the room (except the sergeant) was tired in their own way, whether it be physically or mentally, making it hard to want to listen to the insane frog's ramblings. Although Dororo wasn't physically present, his attendance was accounted for by a cardboard cutout Keroro had made himself. As the green space alien marched behind his podium, Moa brought attention to the room by banging a gavel against a sound block, "Order in the court, Uncle Keroro is now presiding," she yawned, resting down her head as she finished her speech.

The entire idea of a meeting had Giroro flustered, as he couldn't help but think of missing Natsumi coming down for a roasted sweet potato. "What's the big idea calling this meeting so late, Keroro? Couldn't it wait until tomorrow morning's meeting?" he growled, banging his fist on the desk.

Keroro chuckled softly, unscathed by the soldier's display of anger, "Gero gero. It's funny you should ask, Corporal, seeing as you _were_ the inspiration behind my new plan," he said, motioning for Moa to send down the projector screen, ready to display his custom invasion scheme power point.

"What are you talking about?" the red frog asked, now more curious than upset, his eyebrows twisting in a cautionary curiosity.

"Don't act coy, Gi-ro-ro, I heard about your 'covert operation' with Mama Aki! Not informing your superior officer? Shameful!"

Giroro just grit his teeth in response. It wasn't worth arguing. Technically (as much as he hated to admit it) Keroro was…almost right. However because they usually referred to Aki as 'General', Giroro didn't necessarily have to inform Keroro (since general is much higher in rank than sergeant).

"Behold! Operation: Make Mama Aki Indebted To Us!" the platoon leader's inflated speech made the plan sound that much better, awing the pathetic platoon in their sleep-deprived stupor. "Phase One," the slide changed, showing a poorly drawn image of what seemed to be Natsumi being eaten by…space ferrets? "We dress up as space kidnappers and scare Natsumi down an alley. Phase Two," the slide changed, a red blob now appearing in the computerized drawing, "Corporal Giroro will rescue Natsumi, who will run home to her mother and tell her everything."

Giroro blushed hard, oddly liking this new plan with every additional phase. Scaring Natsumi? This was something he openly despised. However, then rescuing her from the costumed fiends, being the savior of her day, and possibly winning her heart with a brutal display of his strength? Priceless.

"Phase Three, after Aki hears how her daughter was saved by us, she will be in our debt, and will raise my allowance as a show of gratitude, thus funding a full scale invasion!" Keroro concluded, switching to his ending slide. '_And providing me with more money for Gundam models. Gero gero…'_

Tamama raised his hand, slightly confused, "Sergeant, if Giroro is the one saving Natsumi, why are you getting paid?" he asked in his adorably cute voice, trying not to bash his beloved sergeant's plan too much.

"That's simple Private Tamama, because I _am_ the platoon leader," was Keroro's simplistic response.

This plan was ridiculously crude and no doubt would fail horribly, but Giroro was willing to take that chance if he got to be Natsumi's "knight in shining armor." _(Narrator Note: He really has a one track mind.)_ The conference concluded shortly after, with Keroro stating the mission would begin at 15:30 sharp, where they would strike Natsumi as she got off school. Moa concluded the gathering with another bang from her gavel, falling asleep on desk directly after.

~ (The Next Morning) ~

It was a bright and sunny Friday morning, the birds were chirping and the sun was shining through the Hinata's windows, filling this lively house with a pleasant warmness, brightening one special Pekoponian's mood. Today was the day Natsumi would leave for her trip, and although Spring Break didn't _officially_ start till tomorrow, the teen planned on spending the night with her friends, that way their Satsuki's family could get an early start on the road first thing tomorrow morning. Her neatly packed suitcase was propped against her desk, where it would stay until after school. There was no need to lug her clothes everywhere. Immediately following school she planned on coming straight home, where she would grab her luggage and meet up with her friends at Satsuki's house, a place she had never been to before. How exciting!

The teenager girl hummed to herself, starting her morning duties, which included making sure Fuyuki was awake, getting dressed, and packing their lunches. Her mother had already left for work as usual, something that didn't seem to bother either of the Hinata children as much as it should. Having no father and barely a mother would seem to take its toll on the two adolescents, yet neither of them seemed to pay any mind, most likely because Natsumi's role as not only an older sister, but a household leader took away many responsibilities a single parent would normally face.

"Fuyuki! Come on!" Natsumi yelled from the kitchen, wrapping two bento boxes with furoshiki cloths.

The paranormally obsessed boy fumbled down the stairs, a sock hanging half way off his foot and his school tie dangling around his neck undone. "Sorry sis," he mumbled, stuffing his mouth with a piece of toast. After he had finished getting dressed, the two siblings set off for school, unaware of what the platoon had in store for Natsumi afterwards.

~ (Super Time Skip) ~

School passed by relatively fast for Natsumi. All of her classes were rather easy, and the company of her friends, Koyuki included, made the time pass faster. As the teacher came into their classroom for the last period, Natsumi let out a small, stress-filled sigh. It was chemistry. She didn't particularly like this class, and her anxiety over the period would make the time pass that much slower, seconds feeling like minutes, keeping her away from her Spring break. She got out her notepad and pen, ready to jot down whatever scientific formulas their teacher decided to throw at them. However, as the class drudged on, Natsumi felt herself losing more and more interest in the lecture, beginning to doodle on the side of her notes.

She drew a sun, with her name in kanji underneath, underlining the character 'natsu', meaning summer. Underneath this picture, she drew a sweet potato, complete with steam coming from the top. She could almost smell the roasted, starchy flesh smoldering over Giroro's fire pit—the light from the flames dancing on his crimson skin, his cool voice whispering her name as he handed her the delectable vegetable. '_What the hell am I thinking!_' Natsumi gulped, her face flushing as she thought of why she was thinking about that dumb frog. She looked down at her notes, the images of the red space alien plastered across the chemical notation for ammonium nitrate. This shocking discovery caused her to yelp softly, embarrassment flooding her body as she quickly tore out the page, crumpling it up loudly and hiding it in her desk.

This was ridiculous! Why on earth would she be thinking about Giroro, especially when she clearly liked Saburo? However it was nice of him to help her prepare dinner last night, but that shouldn't have earned him a place in her daydreams! She nearly called out in excitement when the final bell rung, thanking the heavens for letting this awful day come to a close. She just needed to go back home, grab her things, and take the train to her friend's house. Then her Spring break could officially begin and there would be no more aliens poking around in her mind.

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><p><em><strong>Could Natsumi be finding repressed feelings for our beloved red toad? Or was it truly just a reaction of his helpfulness?<strong>_

_**Sorry for the wait. This chapter is more like a filler for the next, where there will actually be some action! As always, leave comments, and don't be afraid to message me with suggestions or critique. I thrive on it. ^_^ **_


	4. Reap what you Sow

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, or the Collectors alien race—which my 'Reapers' are based upon.**_

**C****HAPTER**** 4: ****R****EAP**** W****HAT**** Y****OU**** S****OW**

The door slammed as Natsumi rushed into her house, kicking off her shoes and running up the stairs to grab her luggage. Once in her room, she grabbed the handle of her pink, floral suitcase, dragging it behind her as she took one final look around her room. It was spotless, she had packed all her necessities, and her homework was in her briefcase downstairs. She didn't need anything else besides her purse, which she snatched from her bed, slinging it over her shoulder as she exited her room.

"Hello, Natsumi-dono," a familiar green frog croaked, staring up at his human overlord. She had no idea of what was waiting for her once she left her residence, making Keroro snicker silently to himself, a mysterious glint flashing in his eye.

"What do you want, stupid frog?" Natsumi hissed, plotting to flatten the alien with her baggage if he didn't move.

"Nothing Natsumi-dono, I just hope you have a _safe_ Spring break, gero gero."

The red head rolled her eyes as she pushed past Keroro, her suitcase wheel running over his foot, causing him to let out a painful yelp. "Dumb frog."

As Natsumi left her home, the ARMPIT platoon assembled, beginning their operation. Giroro had been individually debriefed for his particular assignment, taking position half a kilometer away from the closest metro station, cloaked with his anti-barrier. The rest of the platoon suited up and boarded their cargo transport, ready to be dropped into action.

Keroro and Tamama would be the attackers, disguised in suits designed to mimic the appearance of the alien race known as the Reapers. Reapers were ruthless creatures, known more for their traffickteering operations within the Zeta Nebula than anything else. They were lawless—outlaws from the Omega galaxy that roamed the universe running their illegal rackets. _(Narrator Note: They're pretty much space pirates.)_ Keroro had practically looked up to them in his adolescent rebellion phase, once dressing up as one for the Keronian Halloween. He now donned that same costume again (with a slight upgrade in realism by Kururu) with nearly the same purpose as before—scaring the crap out of younger people.

At the target location, Giroro could just make out the silhouette of his love, Natsumi, making her way over the horizon, pulling along her little pink suitcase. The soldier's stomach began to churn as he thought of the horror they were about to induce upon her, mentally cursing at Keroro for his foolish plan. The churning ceased, however, once the corporal began to think of the repercussions—him beating the living day lights out of Keroro and Tamama, making them run away in fear, and Natsumi jumping into his arms, them riding away on his skimmer into the sunset. "Oh Giroro," she would sing, nuzzling her soft red hair under his chin. Giroro sighed contently, a newfound readiness washing his fears away as he unholstered his gun, ready to begin.

In the alley adjacent from him, he could see the jagged outlines of two tall black figures. _'That must be them,' _he thought to himself, his grip tightening in anticipation, _'Now just to wait for the signal.'_

Before he knew it, Natsumi began to pass that same alley, only to be whisked into its darkness by her two assailants, who had set their plan into action, pinning the Pekoponian against the brick wall as she let out a horrific scream of terror. Giroro's knuckles began to turn white as his grip tightened further, gritting his teeth to block out his love's cries for help. He just had to wait for the signal. Any second now Keroro would say, "No one can stop us now," in the corniest way imaginable, and Giroro would rush in. However, they seemed to be taking it over the top. This was nothing like Giroro had imagined, instantly hating himself for going along with Keroro's ridiculous plan, his crimson eyes searing with anger.

"Keroro, what the hell are you doing!" Giroro called over his voice transceiver, the rage clear in his words.

Keroro's voice was racked in confusion as he answered, "Gero? What are you talking about, Corporal?"

"You know what I'm talking about! You were just suppose to scare the target, and you're practically…._fondling_ her."

Again the sergeant answered, confused, "Giroro…we haven't made it to the drop sight yet. We—"

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN? I'M STARING AT YOU RIGHT NOW!" Giroro howled, the microphone screeching with the imbalanced frequency.

"I don't know what you're seeing, solider, but Tamama was hungry, so we stopped for snacks. We'll be there it about 5 minutes…"

Giroro went silent, dropping his transceiver as realization coursed through his body, knocking breath from his amphibious lungs. Those weren't Keroro and Tamama in the alley, assaulting his love, causing her to scream in terror. Those were…_real_ Reapers. His lip twitched with fury as he jumped from his position, sprinting across the street to rescue his beloved, "I'm coming, Natsumi!"

* * *

><p>The Reapers wore suits of black armor, outlining their human-like figures with muscular detailing. Their faces were covered by their helmets, the sides of which resembled the Venus Fly Trap, wrapping around their insect-shaped heads from the back, teeth covering the sides as their four, piercing, yellow eyes peeked through the open slots. Natsumi attempted to let out another panicked cry for help, thrashing her foot into her attacker's abdomen, pushing him into the wall as she elbowed the other, her knobby bone connecting with his insectoid chin. The Reaper she had kicked quickly recovered, wrapping the female warrior in an constricting bear hug, only to recoil again when Natsumi propelled her head back, the ridge of her skull crashing into the creature's helmet. Her small victory was cut short when the other caught her by the throat, his long, talon-like fingers squeezing her fragile windpipe, restricting any oxygen. A thin metal rod plunged into the Pekoponian's neck, its burning liquid shooting into her body, causing her to go limp within a matter of seconds. Their target neutralized, they signaled for pick up, a blue pillar of light splitting the sky, like a bolt of lightning, dispersing as quickly as it came, leaving behind an empty alley, only a small drop of green ooze and spilled luggage as evidence that something extraterrestrial had happened within that abandoned lane.<p>

"Natsumi!" Giroro panted as he reached the now desolate passageway, aiming his gun at the sky in hopes to see the Reaper's transportation bolt. With no luck, he sprinted back to his original position, quickly mounting his cloaked skimmer and shooting into the sky at a 90 degree angle, a red stream of light whisking through the evening sky. _'Hold on Natsumi,'_ Giroro seethed, letting out a roar of anger as he pushed his hovercraft full throttle, splitting apart clouds as he blasted past the stratosphere.

Giroro knew full well what Reapers did with abducted victims. They sold them into slavery for a quick buck. Slavery was prominent within many galaxies, especially the Omega galaxy, from which the Reapers hailed. They would sell their victims in distant systems, their buyers being allowed to do whatever they pleased with them, within the restrictions of their individual planetary regulations. Legally, as long as they sold to a system that supported chattel trade, they weren't doing anything wrong, making trafficking humanoid aliens they're most abundant and economically rich trade good.

And the same thing would happen to Natsumi if Giroro didn't catch their ship before it exited their solar system. He had to hurry.

* * *

><p>In the air, the rest of Keroro's platoon had just arrived at the drop point, watching Giroro's skimmer dart past then at a tremendous velocity, almost turning their cargo transport on its side. Keroro rushed to his voice transponder, calling out to Giroro who by this point was well out of spotting range. However, Giroro never answered to any of his sergeant's commands <em>(Narrator Note: He dropped his transceiver)<em>, infuriating the tiny green frog, but also worrying him slightly. _'Where in the frog is he going, we have a mission to do,'_ Keroro huffed, contemplating their next move. If Giroro was going to chicken out, then he would have to be the hero, taking off his costume and readying himself for his new acting role.

"Keroro, you might want to see this, kukuku…" Kururu chuckled, pointing the main screen, where he had zoomed in on the deserted alley where Natsumi was suppose to be. Her suitcase was tossed against the dumpster, the contents of her purse littering the concrete.

Keroro scratched his head, reflecting on the sight, "Why would Natsumi want to throw her things away? Doesn't she need them for her trip?"

Kururu sighed at his sergeant's stupidity, zooming in on the drop of green ooze, "It seems as though we weren't the only ones wanting to scare Natsumi-san, kuku."

"What is that?" Tamama asked, staring at the screen.

"It's blood. Reaper blood from what I can guess just by looking. It seems as though they've taken Natsumi and Giroro is chasing them. What a _pleasant_ turn of events, kukuuuu…"

"Well then we'll follow them, de arimasu! Quickly, Kururu!" Keroro stated bolding, pointing to the sky.

"Ku, one problem. I removed the hyperdrive to test one of my new dimensional teleportation weapons. This vehicle can't go into space without it, kukuku…"

"Well then get me a visual!"

"He's too far from any camera within this vicinity."

"Well then what can you do, Major!"

Kururu smiled with twisted delight, pushing a button on his control panel with a, "clicky-poo". Instantly, a digitized map came up on the screen, a dotted line cutting the image in half, with a red circle blinking at the top of the line. Keroro and Tamama let out a sound of awe, admiring the screen. "Remember when Keroro got that fake KRR-SB that got him stranded in the wilderness for hours, ku! Well after that, I implanted GPS locaters in everyone's brain,. We should be able to monitor his movements as long as he stays within planetary orbit, kuuuukuku." _(Narrator Note: The episode Kururu is talking about is Episode 31, Lost in Transportation.)_

"Alright everyone! Back to the base to prepare for a rescue mission, de arimasu!" Keroro commanded, puffing out his froggy chest in a superior fashion.

"Sir, yes sir, ku KU!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>New chapter is up, and this puppy is finally starting to take off! As always, tell me what you think. And also, if anyone knows what to color using Photoshop or any other digital design system (besides MS Paint), please contact me! I have an illustrator file I need colored, and well...I suck at coloring. Not only will they get my many thanks, but they'll also get a sneak peek at one of the future characters, ^_^. Many thanks, and REVIEW!<strong>_


	5. Close Encounters Of A New Kind

**C****HAPTER**** 5: ****C****LOSE**** E****NCOUNTERS**** OF A**** N****EW**** K****IND**

When Natsumi awoke, she found herself in a most unfavorable situation. Her hands were bound, her body lying against what felt like cold metal, in near pitch darkness. The only source of light was a transparent wall of color, which resembled a gasoline stain, its multitude of colors swirling around one another, blending and splitting to create a wave of motion and texture. Its beauty was countered only by the eerie crackling noise it made, as if a stream of electricity was coursing through its frame, which of course was exactly what was happening, turning the beautiful screen into a deadly cage door.

Natsumi took a deep breath, hoisting herself from the floor into a sitting position. Of course she was scared, terrified even, but her exterior didn't show it for a second, for she knew any moment now, those stupid frogs would be there to bail her out...again. "_This better not be another scheme by that dumb frog,"_ she seethed inwardly, thinking about how awkward her froggy "friend" had been before she left home. In the dark distance, she could hear the jumbled smear of voices, talking in a tongue she had never heard before. Their speech sounded like drunken crickets, slurring their chirps, with the sound of their mandibles clanging together protruding over their inaudible gibberish. Three sets of footsteps grew louder as they ventured towards her, their massive silhouettes penetrating the foreground behind her technicolored door. The tallest one, who seems to be the leader, called out to the one on its left, who walked up to her cell, placing its claw-like hand on what Natsumi assumed to be a biological key pad, scanning the creatures fingerprints to open the door.

The screen dispersed and an overhead light flickered on, temporarily blinding its prisoner as her eyes adjusted to the light. When her vision had settled, she found that the creature on the right had moved behind her, making haste to take off her bindings and return to its initial position. The three beings congregated and stared at the young girl, as if they were waiting for something to happen.

The awkward silence lasted for what felt like minutes, but in reality was only seconds, which was enough time for Natsumi to ponder over her next move. Her wrists were unbound, the door was gone, and surely she was faster than these towering insects. Jumping into a crouching position, she pushed off with all her force, bolting for the door. Her escape was cut short as the right Reaper grabbed a handful of the Natsumi's hair, causing her to let out a cry of pain as she was slung back into her original spot. The Reapers resumed their staring.

"What the hell do you want with me!" Natsumi yelled, tired of the silence and all around weirdness. These creatures had abducted her and all they could do was stare? Their piercing yellows eyes bore holes into the teenager's skull, rattling her brain with confusion and slight terror. However, the reason for the aliens silence was because they couldn't understand her language, and she had to speak before the translators within their helmets would pick up her Japanese dialect, allowing them to respond.

After a moment, the center Reaper opened its mandibles, its insect mouth forming a response to the frightened girl's question. "Sign," was all the creature said, its hand extending a futuristic electronic clipboard, with what looked like a document written in alien language visible on its screen.

Natsumi stared at the technology, confused by the creature's response, "What is it?"

"It doesn't matter. Sign." The Reaper answered, extending the clipboard farther.

The red-head's stubborn nature kicked in, as she crossed her arms, looking away from the frightening bugs, "I'm not signing anything until I know what it says," she huffed.

"Foolish Pekoponian wench," the center one retorted as the figure to its right withdrew a weapon from its holster, "Sign or die."

Natsumi's heart dropped into her stomach. What the hell was on this electronic device, and why was it imperative that _she_ sign it? However, seeing as her very life seemed to hang on her simple signature, the girl quickly changed her mind towards the subject, nodding in compliance. Where were those stupid frogs, and why weren't they getting her out of this situation! "I need a pen," she mumbled, snatching the clipboard from the alien's hand.

An oddly shaped smirk curled onto the Reaper's vertical mouth as it knelt down to face the stubborn female, who by now was so over her fear of aliens she stared directly back into its two frontal eyes. She would not back down; she would find a way out of her situation, with or without the ARMPIT platoon's help. The Reaper snatched Natsumi's wrist, uncurling her thumb from her balled fist, and piercing her delicate flesh with his needle-like fingers, drawing blood. It then proceeded to place her bleeding appendage against the electronic clipboard Natsumi held, a small tone occurring once the device recognized her DNA _signature_.

"Pekoponian. Female. Age, 16. Physical traits include: red hair, brown eyes, medium athletic build, from Japanese decent. Intelligence, slightly above average. Blood type, O." the computer chimmed as its owner took it back from its prisoner.

"Perfect." The Reaper hummed to itself, walking in long strides out of the cell, its two friends following from behind. The all around strangeness of the situation had Natsumi's blood nearly boiling, as she rushed for the door once more, only to be cut short yet again, this time by the reappearance of the colorful, deadly, electric door.

"Who are you! What do you want from me!" Natsumi demanded, raving to the three figures as they disappeared into the shadows, "Come back here so I can kick your buggy butts!" Her voice echoed throughout her prison, the overhead light in her cell flickering off, sending her back into her quiet darkness.

* * *

><p>By the time this was all occurring, Giroro had breached the enemy's cargo bay, concealing himself and his vehicle with his anti-barrier. His guerilla combat training would do nicely in here, the tight spaces and slim corridors being easy to hold down and take out large numbers—just in case. Giroro prepared himself for war, arming his body with assortments of rifles and pistols, rocket launchers and grenades, ready to storm an entire vessel to save one frightened girl. He caught himself choking on his thoughts, mentally bashing himself for not doing more. How could he let her be taken? How could he have failed his mission before it had even started? All these thoughts swirled through the Corporal's head, trying to muddle up his mind. Not allowing that to happen, he focused his rage and self-doubt onto his enemies, drawing his twin pistols as ventured into the ship's main hull.<p>

Sneaking around the ship was easy, as his anti-barrier made him invisible to all the ship's crew and cameras. He only needed to take out a few curious guards, who were patrolling doors or blocking his way for too long. A quick pop to the head was all it took, barely denting his ammo reserve. He stowed their bodies into closets or behind boxes, making sure they were hidden for enough time for him to retrieve Natsumi and escape unnoticed. As much as he wanted to charge in, guns blazing, he had to think of the situation that would put them both into. Giroro didn't know enough about the Reaper's combat style, or Natsumi's current physical condition. What if she was hurt? He couldn't risk her safety over his bloodlust, no matter how much it pained him. No, for now, a few dead Reapers would have to do.

Rounding a corner, he quickly found himself in two unfavorable situations—a guarded, locked door and a dying anti-barrier battery. With the last cloaking power from his barrier, he jumped the massive figure, thrusting the Reaper's helmet into the door, causing the metal armor to echo, paining his enemy's eardrums. As the guard tossed off its helmet in agony, it met the barrel end of Giroro's pistol, which he had plunged into the Reaper's mouth with a twisted grin.

"Open the door," Giroro breathed, his voice as cold and deadly as venom. Remarkably, the Reaper followed the raging Keronian's orders, fearing for it young, buggy life. It must have been a cadet. Within seconds, it had the door open, revealing the prisoners' hull. Cells upon cells towered into the high ceiling, lining the walls back into an oblivion, swallowed by shadows. The faint glows of all the electric plasma doors protruded in the darkness, accounting for the vast numbers of abducted aliens these Reapers had taken.

Rage swirled inside the Corporal as he stared upon the sight, thinking of how his Natsumi was somewhere within this giant room. Giroro snapped back at his hostage, his eyes filled with bloodlust as a wicked smirk contorted his face. They had taken Natsumi from him; they had laid their freakish hands upon her delicate skin and snatched her away, threatening to turn his warrior into a pathetic slave. How they would pay, how they would all pay, he thought, his bloodlust growing immensely. It pained him that he would not be able to slaughter the entire crew, but a few would do. Yes, just a few.

Giroro squeezed his trigger, green ooze squirting onto his face with delight, the sight of the Reaper's compressed skull pleasing the solider, its insect brain sloshing out onto the flooring. Now to find Natsumi.

"Natsumi!" Giroro yelled, his voice filling the dark room as he ventured further in. He passed by many cells, each filled with some type of alien from the far depths of distant galaxies. Many he did not recognize in nature, however, he thought he passed by an Axolot. Most of the prisoners were bore feminine forms, only worrying Giroro more as he called out his love's name again, "Natsumi!"

"Giroro? Giroro, is that you?" a frightened female voice called from the distance, making the Corporal run towards the sound. A few cell doors from his original position, and he was staring face to face with his Natsumi, only a pathetic door separating them.

"Natsumi! Are you ok? Did they hurt you?" his voice was shaky, trying to hold up his composure as he quickly scanned her body for any sign of harm.

"I'm fine, get me out of here!" she persisted, huffing as she watched the frog scan over her female body, "What are you waiting for?"

Giroro's eyes snapped to the ground as he realized her was staring a bit too intently, his head jerking to get a glance at the biological key pad. He really shouldn't have killed that last Reaper; he could have used him. Thinking of how to blow down the door, he grabbed a grenade from his belt, warning Natsumi to huddle in the corner before he could set it off.

Just then, a strong force pushed into his back, thrusting him into the electric door. Voltage coursed through the Keronian, causing him to scream in agony, his body convulsing from the shock. He quickly lost his strength, crashing to the floor, shaking from the electric current. "Giroro!" he could hear Natsumi call, her voice changing from a harsh and playful one, into one filled with frightening sincerity. A dark shadow covered him as he weakly looked towards his attacker, an unmasked Reaper, older and larger than any he had fought on his way in. "Let him go! Leave him alone!" Natsumi's voice was fading, and Giroro could feel himself being lifted from the floor, his mind slipping into an unwanted slumber.

"_Natsumi…forgive me."_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Gah! Sorry for the delay. I've been swamped. However, I think this chapter is one of my best, and perfection takes time, :p. So give me your comments!<strong>_

_**Also, I'm pondering whether or not to mark this fanfic down to T, and just warn which scenes will be M-rated at the beginning of those chapters. What do you think?**_


	6. Twenty Questions with True Confessions

**CHAPTER 6: T****WENTY**** Q****UESTIONS WITH ****T****RUE**** C****ONFESSIONS**

"_Giroro…come on!" Natsumi's voice beckoned as she ran across the ocean shore, her feet kicking up the white sand behind her. The sun was beginning to set before them, casting a warm orange and purple glow onto the cool ocean, a salty breeze whisking back the Pekoponian's fiery red hair. Her white bikini caught the reflections of the sunset's colors, causing her tan skin to radiate, her exotic beauty striking the love-struck Keronian with awe. However, no matter how fast he ran, Giroro could never catch the marvelous young woman, as she ran faster and faster, plunging into the chilly ocean. She beckoned for him to follow as she started to swim towards the sun, her figure disappearing under the tidal waves. Giroro followed after, despite his amphibious body disliking the salty water, using all his power to draw nearer to his beloved. Though for some reason, Natsumi had began to dive further into the ocean depths, letting the deep-sea darkness wrap her body in its blackened veil. _

"_Natsumi!" he called (somehow underwater), extending his hand to save her from the darkness. She ignored his cries, receding further into the black abyss until nothing but her silhouette and four piercing yellow eyes could be seen. Those eyes…he had seen them before. Something about them screamed danger, and yet Natsumi seemed to welcome them with inviting arms. From the abyss emerge a black, bony hand with knife-like fingers, which carefully wrapped themselves around the young woman's neck._

"_Why couldn't you save me?"Natsumi whispered, her face shrouded by her red hair which flowed freely under the watery surface, her body encased in the shadows, "Giroro …"_

Giroro eyes snapped open as he jolted from his dreams, a cold sweat dripping down his brow. He really needed to stop having those dreams. As he tried to wipe the condensation from his forehead, he found that he could not move his arms, or in fact, any of his torso. Upon further inquiry, he saw that he was bound to a chair in a small room. Before him was a table, another chair, and behind that a mirror, in which he could see a Reaper stood behind him, standing at attention. _"Great, an interrogation room,"_ he thought, taking a deep breath as he struggled against his bonds without luck. At that moment, the door to the room slid open, and another Reaper walked in as the mechanized door sealed behind him. Giroro recognized this Reaper, for it was the same one that had kicked him into the electric door. A low growl involuntarily came from the Corporal's throat as the creature took a seat across from him, its unmasked exoskeleton more hideous than the fully armored Reapers.

"My name is Captain Fera, Cael I Fera. You can call me, Cael. What may I call you?" Despite his looks, the Reaper was very civilized in nature, his Keronian pronunciation remarkably spot on, however, this was most likely because of their translators. His voice was very masculine and deep, yet also calm as he patiently waited for the response he knew wasn't coming from his captive, his mandibles parting in a smile. "You've killed many people on my ship, solider. All to rescue a Pekoponian? This is very interesting to me. I do wish you would cooperate and answer my questions." Giroro remained silent, staring daggers at his enemy. Cael sighed, "As you wish."

The Reaper behind them touched a switch on the wall, forcing the two-way mirror to reveal its other side, where Natsumi and yet another Reaper could be seen. Natsumi's hands were tied above her head as she dangled uncomfortably from the ceiling, her legs kicking as she tried to touch the ground. Her eyes were racked with fear and frustration as she looked up at the mirror, where she too could see through it, her eyes setting on the bound frog. "Giroro!" she was able to yell before the audio and visual dispersed, the mirror resuming its reflective state.

"Natsumi!" Giroro called back, thrashing against his bindings, "Let her go! I'll kill you!" his voice bellowed, the cables marking his skin from where he was struggling.

"Oh, now you talk," Cael chimed, holding up a small remote with a single button in its center, "Do you see the device I hold? When I press this button, it will emit a painful shock to your precious…Nasuki, was it? Anyways, each time I press it the shock will grow in voltage. If I have to press it more than five times…well…let's just say I'll be staying in this orbit a bit longer, trying to find a replacement. Understand?"

Giroro remained silent, his teeth gritting together in rage. They wouldn't hurt Natsumi. They wouldn't dare. She was their cargo, their precious living cargo, and they wouldn't possibly risk the integrity of their cargo for his stupid answers…would they? Giroro was calling their bluff, a most unwise move, however he was trained as a military man, and soldiers did not break in interrogations.

The Reaper captain's mandibles clenched together in a frown, his forehead drooping and his eyes squinted together, "I don't think you understand. I'm not 'joking' with you." He squeezed the button, and although the audio between rooms was shut off, a terrible female shriek penetrated the walls, cracking the soldier's very soul. He had gambled and lost, and Natsumi's welfare had been the price. Anything he had thought before that awful cry had disappeared, and maintaining Natsumi's well-being became the immediate mission, even if that meant answering the captain's questions. "Shall I do it again, or do you understand?"

Giroro hesitated, but only for a moment, gathering his strength as he spat the answer, "Yes, I understand."

"Wonderful!" Cael's mandibles parted wide, his eyes lighting up in almost a twisted delight, "Well then, what is your name and rank, solider?"

"…Giroro. Corporal Giroro." The words felt like bile, burning his throat as they came out.

"What is your current mission, Corporal? Why are you on my vessel?"

"To rescue the Pekoponian girl you've captured."

This puzzled the Reaper, but he figured as much, continuing his line of questions, "I thought the Keronians were planning to overtake Pekopon. That would make all Pekoponians your enemies, correct?"

Giroro clamped his eyes shut, fearing his answer. Of course he knew all Pekoponian's were his enemies, and yet…Natsumi…she couldn't fall under that category. She had taken his heart from the moment he set eyes on her those two years ago, her ferocity stealing his very soul. His love for her was a never ending struggle, caught between his brain and his heart—his warrior instinct and his lover's spirit. "…Correct."

"Then why save this one? Is she your slave? If that's the case I would be willing to pay a handsome amount or give you one of my—"

"SHE IS NOT MY SLAVE!" The very thought of something so vile tore the solider to pieces as he bore his teeth, his upper lip twitching in anger.

"Well what is she then, hm?" Giroro remained silent, "Don't tell me you've…" Cael burst into a fit of laughter, banging his fist on the table as he exploded into laughter, "You have, haven't you! You poor bastard!" Wiping an invisible tear from his face, he took in a deep breath, relaxing his convulsing diaphragm, "I want to hear you say it though. Tell me, have you fallen in love with your enemy, Corporal?"

The sheer embarrassment caused Giroro's head to droop, letting gravity control his movements. Was he really that pathetic? Before deploying to Pekopon, he had made a promise not to fall in love, and yet…it had all happened so fast. He had learned that true passion was something no one was ready for, and the bittersweet feeling of unrequited love. Now he was being analyzed by this…thing. No, he wouldn't give him the pleasure of poking around his mind.

"I'm not hearing an answer, Corporal…" Cael snickered, pressing his remote once more, the same earsplitting screech shattering Giroro's willpower.

"STOP IT! I'll say it…damn you," the Keronian breathed, nearly choking on his words. He couldn't bear to hear Natsumi cry out again, his body shaking from clenching his fists so hard, "Yes…you're right…I…" his brow was pulsating, sweat running down his face as the mixture of rage and humiliation jumbled his mind, "I _love_ her."

Cael sneered as he switched his line of questioning, nearly sickened by the thought of this interspecies romance, and wanting to get as far away as subject as possible. Of course he sold slaves, some of which went to brothels or were used mainly for sexual desires. But that wasn't _love_. That was primal, and the idea of love between two different species…well let's just say he was highly conservative. "Your platoon, you must have one, yes? If you have a platoon, which I would imagine you very well do, where are they? Certainly they must be looking for you?"

Giroro huffed, thinking about Keroro's incompetency. Was he truly looking for them, or had he long since given up, marking this occasion as a military win? In one move, the Reapers had eliminated the ARMPIT platoon's greatest threat, Natsumi, who was constantly blocking them from going through with any invasion scheme. This was a huge strategic advantage, and although they had lost Giroro in the process, surely the lost could be compensated for, right? "I doubt it," he finally answered, giving a small, disappointing sigh.

"Remarkable. I don't know whether to applaud your bravery or kill you for your sheer stupidity. I suppose I'll decide later." The Reaper captain stood from his position, beginning to walk towards the door before he stopped, turning to take one more glance at his Keronian prisoner, "Oh yes, and by the way, Corporal…you really are a true idiot." With his last statement, he threw the remote control onto the table, and exited the room.

Giroro stared at the small device with much distain, eyeing its features with a thorough investigation. The device was cream in color, having one button in its center, a short antenna, a two smaller buttons on its side, and three speaker slots on its back. Speaker slots? Why would a detonation device need speaker slots? Realization grasped him around the throat, squeezing the air from his lungs. It was a tape recorder. Prerecorded screams was all he had heard, being rewound and replayed to Giroro's horror. He knew they wouldn't actively hurt their cargo. Why didn't he stick with his gut! Now he understood what the captain had told him before he left. He was an idiot for letting his emotions block his judgment, for letting his heart overtake his brain. "Natsumi…" he seethed, thinking of how he had been played for a fool, failing her once again. Once more a devastating electrical shock pulsed through his body, this time through his neck, the Reaper behind him tasering the little red frog, quickly knocking him unconscious yet again. "_Damn it to Hell…"_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Woot, another chapter up, and just in one day! Aren't you proud? ^_^ We finally get to have a decent conversation with one of the Reapers, beginning to understand their true nature. Faaaabulous! Where is Keroro and the rest of the platoon though, and what will happen to Giroro and Natsumi now? Keeping reading to find out! And leave me your comments!<strong>_


	7. Friday Night Plights

**C****HAPTER**** 7: ****F****RIDAY**** N****IGHT ****P****LIGHTS**

Natsumi sighed as she held the unconscious frog in her arms, her eyes sweeping over his weakened figure. "Why did you have to be so stupid?" she whispered upon Giroro's deaf ears, her voice echoing softly within her tiny cell. He was always putting himself in harm's way for her, and now she finally understood why. As she thought of the earlier events of that day, a weak laugh parted her lips and a single tear rolled down her cheek, dropping onto Giroro's metallic belt buckle.

"_Giroro!" Natsumi was able to yell before the audio and visual dispersed, the mirror resuming its reflective state. However, she was on the viewing side of the mirror, so she could still see the wrathful Keronian thrashing against his bindings, and hear his voice calling out her name. "Giroro! It's a trick! Don't say anything!" she tried to warn, her eyes welling with tears as she realized he couldn't hear her pleas. Dangling by her wrists, she was forced to watch the interrogation unfold, observing the soldier's constantly weakening mental state with every display of that evil ruse. Natsumi couldn't help but feel awful, knowing that she was the reason for his pain, and that she had helped make him this way. Yes, it was her prerecorded screams, but she was forced to do them! It's not like she wanted to! Still, the fact remained that she had played a part in his agony, causing the tears to begin to trickle down her cheeks. "Oh Giroro…"_

"…_Tell me, have you fallen in love with your enemy, Corporal?" her captor asked the red frog, causing Natsumi's head to perk up at the question. Love? What did he mean, __love__? That couldn't possibly be right. Giroro didn't love her. He was just a nice guy…err…space frog. She strained her neck to hear, pushing her ear as close as she could towards the glass mirror. Was Giroro in love with her? He was always doing nice things for her…but that was just a part of his personality, wasn't it? _(Narrator Note: If a guy constantly does nice things for you, it's because he really likes you, and for no other reason. Remember that, ladies.)

_"Yes…you're right…I…" Giroro's brow was pulsating, sweat running down his face, "I __love__ her."_

_Natsumi's heart sank into her stomach, her eyes widening as her face flushed with embarrassment. He…__loved__ her? Why? For how long? Didn't he know she had a thing for Saburo? Her head whirled towards the Reaper guarding her, as if she needed confirmation for what she had just heard. It didn't say anything, its mandibles just smirking at her, giving all the answer she needed. Giroro had just indirectly confessed his infatuation for the Pekoponian warrior princess, causing her adolescent hormones to take a turn for the worse. Not only was she feeling confused, guilty, and terrified, but now anger, nausea, and another feeling which she couldn't quiet place came into the mixture. This was too much for one day. Today was supposed to be relaxing, enjoyable, and fun. She was supposed to start her Spring Break today! Instead she was being abducted and told by a space frog that it loved her. A soft groan escaped her lips as she shut her teary eyes, a stress-induced headache coming on. Yes, this was too much for one day._

"You stupid toad…" she sobbed, trying to cover up her sadness with pathetic laughter, "Why didn't you tell me?"She was mentally berating herself, feeling guilty for all the times she had been so cruel. Was he ever going to wake up? It had felt like hours since she had been sent back to her cell, Giroro's unconscious body greeting her on the cold metal floor. She had shook him, slapped him, yelled in his ear, even pleaded to him, and yet nothing seemed to work. Whatever they had done to keep the Keronian quiet seemed to be working wonders.

Her tears gently fell onto Giroro's limp form, crashing onto his soft belly. The moisture from her tears seeped into his amphibious flesh, revitalizing his weakened muscles. From Natsumi's tears Giroro slowly awoke, his eyes flickering open. A groggy groan passed his lips as he came to, his vision refocusing as he stared up at his Pekoponian angel. Natsumi let out a small gasp of excitement and instinctively pulled the frog in close to her, smooshing him within her bosom. The sudden closeness with his love's breasts and the lack of oxygen caused him to panic in both a good and a bad way, as he squirmed out of Natsumi's arms, panting with a beet red face.

"N-Natsumi…are you ok?" he stuttered, thinking the girl must have suffered from a head injury. He had never been that close to Natsumi's breasts, the feeling bittersweet as it filled him not just with immense excitement, but oddly scared him in a way because of her strange behavior.

Natsumi just laughed softly, her face as bright and cheery as could be in their current situation, "Yeah, are you?" By the way Giroro was blushing, he must not have known that Natsumi now knew his deepest secret, and the girl planned on keeping it that way, at least for now. They had to worry about getting home right now. A discussion like that could come later. "So, do you have a plan to get us out?"

"Yeah. Stand back." Giroro warned, taking a deep breath as he concentrated his energy towards materializing a giant plasma cannon. If that couldn't get them out, then nothing could. But no matter how hard he focused or how much energy he converged, Giroro could not will the cannon to come to him. With a frustrated curiosity, he tore the skull emblem from his hat, staring profusely at the tiny electronic. As he scoured the device, he found a small crack on the crest of the skull, and a tiny plume of smoke rising as it made a concerning, dying sound. Giroro's eyes narrowed in rage as he balled the broken device in his fist and punched the closest wall, letting out a loud, "Fuck!" in both anger and pain.

"Giroro, what's wrong?" Natsumi asked with concern, kneeling beside the frog and staring upon the broken emblem with him, "Your invisibility thingy is dead again?" Invisibility thingy? Like she knew what it was called! All she knew was that it made him invisible to everyone except select people, which included her, and that he ran out of battery a lot.

"No, Natsumi. Worse." Giroro took a deep breath, steadying his emotions as he removed his fist from the now dented metal wall, "This piece of technology also allows me to summon any weapon from my quantum space storage unit for a period of time. The circuit is fried." …_It must have happened when I was kicked into that electric door…_ "Without it, I can't break out of this cell, meaning I can't get you home, meaning—"

"So, we're stuck here?" Natsumi cut in.

"Yeah."

She rolled her eyes, "You could have just said that in the first place."

"S-Sorry." Giroro stuttered, felling the blood rush to his face again. He couldn't help it, no matter the situation, he didn't know how to act around the Pekoponian female. He either stuttered, talked too much, or couldn't speak at all.

Suddenly, an ear splitting siren penetrated the air, its echoes ricocheting off of the metal walls, causing the hundreds of captives to cover their ears in pain and anxiety. A bright red light throbbed from the ceiling, casting crimson shadows upon the faces of the Reaper's victims. Large metal doors busted from the seams of each cell's walls, slowly closing their victims inside, encasing them into a coffin of darkness.

"No!" Giroro roared as he attempted to stop the thick metal from shutting them in, the mechanical force threatening to crush his body, as he jumped out at the very last moment, the door sealing shut, entombing them in shadows.

"Giroro! What's happening?" Natsumi yelled back, starring in horror as their final sliver of light faded into darkness. Giroro gazed into the obscure shadows, unable to see Natsumi's frightened façade and reluctant to shatter the confidence she still held in him. Naturally, he knew what was happening, but letting Natsumi know the truth would only frighten her further, as she would realize the full extent of their grave situation. The ship was preparing to launch into hyperspace, locking down all cargo and shutting off any unnecessary power, which included the prison wards' electric doors. To assure the Reaper's live cargo wouldn't attempt to revolt while in hyperspace, metal doors sealed their exit, replacing the electric screen. It would stay that way until they reached their destination, as power outages were a common mishap because of the massive amount of energy consumed when traveling at lightspeed. "You know, don't you? Tell me now!" her voice was demanding, switching from the weak, frightened Natsumi he had just heard. He couldn't help but obey this Natsumi, her forceful demeanor rendering him powerless as her words constricted his thumping heart.

"We're launching into hyperspace. We'll be leaving Earth's orbit shortly." Giroro mumbled, his voice being inaudible if not for the acoustics of the metal cell.

"Then what? What do they want with me!" Natsumi's voice was still filled with fire, tired of being afraid and tired of the overall bullshit.

Giroro swallowed hard, feeling a lump in the back of his throat. Why did she want him to tell her these things? Again, his voice was muffled, guilt shrouding his words, "They want…to…sell you."

"Sell me?" Natsumi asked, her confusion covered by anger and sarcasm.

"…as a slave."

"A slave?" A moment passed before she continued, the rage boiling over as the thought brewed in her mind, "Is this one of Keroro's stupid invasion plots! Cause if so, this has gone far enough!"

Giroro grasped his thighs tightly, baring his teeth as the thought of Keroro doing something this awful pulsated in his brain. Sure he was dumb, but the sergeant wasn't a cruel being, and as sexy as Natsumi's strong voice was, her yelling wasn't getting them anywhere. "It's not a trick, Natsumi!" he finally yelled, his own anger spouting back.

"Then where are they!"

The Corporal's eyes widened at the question, a question he had been asked hours earlier by the Reaper captain. Silence passed for what felt like minutes as he deliberated on his answer, still keeping Natsumi's best interests in mind, "Your friends…the ones you were going to Spring Break with…will they…worry if you don't show?"

As odd and misplaced as the question was, it seemed to calm the raging red head. Were her friends worrying about her absence? Would they leave her without a second thought? Surely they wouldn't, but then…Oh no. A small gasp escaped Natusmi's lips as she realized what awful thing she had done.

_Natsumi nearly called out in excitement when the final bell rung, thanking the heavens for letting this awful day come to a close. She just needed to go back home, grab her things, and take the train to her friend's house. Then her Spring break could officially begin and there would be no more aliens poking around in her mind.__Satsuki and Yayoi were there as always to walk with her to the crossroads where they split off, the three of them talking endlessly about all the fun they were going to have over the break._

"_This is going to be so awesome! I can't believe your mom said yes!" Yayoi cut in, enthusiasm raising her voice an octave._

"_I know right? I just got to grab my stuff from home and I'll meet up with you two at Satsuki's house. If I don't get there by 5, it means my mom came to her senses and changed her mind." Natsumi laughed, sarcasm flooding her voice._

"_Yeah, let's hope that doesn't happen! See you soon!" Satsuki shouted, waving goodbye as Natsumi broke off from their group, heading home._

Of course what she had said was all in jest, but were her friends even smart enough to decipher her sarcasm? What if they took it literally and thought that her mom really had changed her mind? Then there would be no reason for alarm, and they wouldn't think anything about Natsumi not showing. Damn her cynicism.

"I…don't think so…" Natsumi finally answered solemnly, "What about the platoon? They're coming, right?"

* * *

><p>Back on Earth, the ARMPIT platoon was ready to launch, and everyone, even including Dororo, was strapped into the newly repaired transport ship, with which Kururu had replaced its missing hyperdrive. With valor the platoon began the countdown, the engines revving as they prepared for the immediate plunge into space, and the subsequent rescue mission.<p>

"10…9…8…" Keroro sang, his posture mimicking that of a fearless leader's.

"Don't worry Giroro, we're coming," Dororo promised softly from the rear. No one heard him.

"Time to kick Reaper buttttt…" Tamama added, his voice switching from sweet to plain scary as his gravelly voice indicated the presence of his…darker side.

"…4…3…2…"

"Hold on a second, kuku…" Kururu's maniacal laughter interrupted the final countdown, irritating Keroro as his spotlight was stolen, "I've lost Giroro's signal. It seems they've gone into hyperspace, ku."

Keroro's face turned ghost white as his eyes bulged in horror, his head snapping to Kururu's direction, "Is there any way to trace where they're going!" he panicked, pulling on the ear flaps of his hat with much distress.

"Nope. They could be heading anywhere in the universe. Not even I have the technology to trace someone that far away. It seems they're quite literally prisoners to space, kukuku."

Morbid realization haunted the sergeant as he came to terms with their situation. There was no way to help Giroro now, and hopefully he had met up with Natsumi, and the two of them would find their way back to Pekopon. Yes, the corporal was strong…surely they would be ok. But what would he tell Fuyuki? What would he tell Aki? No, if they found out it would be the death of him. Besides, there was no real reason to panic…not yet at least. Giroro would be ok, he would bring back Natsumi-chan, and Keroro's ass would be spared. Everything would work itself out, right?

"Crap."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thanks to G66xD66 for given me the idea for this chapter =^_^=<strong>_

_**Something I forgot to mention in the previous chapter what was the inspiration behind Capt. Fera's name. If you can guess it, you get kudos!**_

_**Leave comments!**_


	8. Heart Break in Hyperspace

**C****HAPTER**** 8: ****HEART BREAK ****IN**** HYPERSPACE**

Time passed quickly within the two prisoners' darkened cell, the silence between them as thick as the metal door that sealed them in. It had been that way for a while, as both really had nothing to say to one another, Giroro too ashamed from his inability to protect his love, and Natsumi too embarrassed from her discovery that the space frog loved her. She knew now wasn't the time to be thinking about this, and that she should be worried about where her alien captors were taking her, or better yet, what they would be doing with her once the ship stopped. No one was coming for them—Giroro had reluctantly told her his doubt of a platoon rescue mission—and yet the only thing buzzing in her troubled mind was that she never knew she was loved. The thought irritated the young woman, nearly driving her insane with questions. How long had Giroro loved her? Why did he never tell her? Did she like him back? Or were all of those words just to appease the Reaper captain? No, certainly not that. His face, the sorrowful look of unrequited love and heartbreak, she had seen it a thousand times on her soap operas. As much as she wanted to open her mouth and ask the poor soul, her lips stayed sealed, threatened with rejection and embarrassment. A chill quivered up Natsumi's spine, causing her to shiver, the metal cell barely shielding the cold space atmosphere.

She hadn't really noticed it before now, but it was really cold in there—like, really cold. Since space had no air, it must not have friction, and since there's no friction, no heat was being generated, she deducted, grasping her arms as she tried to make her own friction, quickly rubbing them against her blouse. The cold air wrapped around her lungs, constricting her breathing. Why hadn't she noticed this sooner; was she really so lost in her thoughts that she had neglected the simplest of bodily responses? Her teeth began to chatter, enamel clashing against enamel, every muscle in her body contracting painfully as the icy metal bit her bottom.

"Are you alright?" a voice called from the darkness, a sluggish air to his voice. The cold made Giroro tired, causing him to yawn as he ended his sentence. (Narrator Note: Cold-bloodied animals, such as toads, hibernate in winter, and are much less active in colder temperatures. Science!)

"Y-Yeah, just c-cold." Natsumi's teeth chattered as she struggled to speak, "How ab-bout you?"

"A solider must be able to adapt to his environment no matter the conditions." Giroro answered cryptically, his body a blackened void in the near distance.

"S-So you're not c-cold?"

"No, not really."

This perked Natsumi's immediate interest. How could he not be freezing? It was like sitting in an ice box, and yet the frog wasn't cold? "_He must be trying to impress me with a tough guy antic,"_ Natsumi thought, inching her way through the darkness, brushing her hands across the icy metal to search for Giroro. Suddenly, her hand touched something remarkably…warm. It wasn't hot, and if the temperature was normal, it might have not even been considered warm, but compared to the dropping temperature of the room, it was a fireplace. In an instant she had thrust herself upon the heat source, wrapping her arms and legs around the pillow-sized entity, her face involuntarily rubbing against the warm, smooth fabric at the top. It was like plunging into a pile of laundry that had just came out of the dryer, so warm, so inviting…

"N-Natsumi!" Giroro yelped, his body paralyzed in both shock and delight as he was pressed against his love's icy bosom. She was…snuggling him. The sheer thought made Giroro drool in ecstasy, but now it was actually happening, his eyes rolling back and his jaw dropping as he relaxed in her tight grip. Sure she was cold, but the warmth from his body quickly evenly distributed between them, satisfaction glowing off of both their faces.

"Ahhh…you're really warm…" Natsumi hummed, "Do you mind if I stay like this?" her words were the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. _She_ wanted to_ cuddle _with _him_. Giroro was so ecstatic he couldn't even process a response, as his words kept coming out as complete gibberish. Natsumi must have taken his babble as a yes, because she didn't leave when the frog didn't (or more like couldn't) answer. She just continued to sit with him in her lap, holding his chubby body in her arms, her hair brushing across his scarred face. This was the best day of Giroro's life, he thought as he inhaled deeply, catching whiff of the mango infused shampoo Natsumi used. He was in froggy heaven.

The two stayed like this for a while in silence, Giroro slowly building up more confidence to relax himself fully within her grasp. He was still a little nervous, and although his brain was warning him off from Natsumi's strange behavior, his heart was completely controlling his actions at this point—it wasn't everyday Natsumi willingly took him into her arms.

"Giroro?" Natsumi asked suddenly, breaking the blissful silence between them. The corporal's groggy eyes snapped open as his love beckoned for his voice, staring into the bleak darkness of their hold.

"Hm?" he mumbled, too relaxed by Natsumi's hair brushing against his cheeks and her nibble fingers rubbing against his stomach to be able to form a worded response.

Natsumi took a deep breath. She really shouldn't be asking her next question, but what if she had no other chance? Neither of them had any idea of where they were headed, and Giroro's escape attempt had failed miserably. What if Giroro was right and they sold her at the next stop, stranding her far from Earth? She had to know now; it might be her last chance…

"Do you…like me?"

The Keronian's eyes widened as he inhaled sharply, thinking over Natsumi's words. Like her? He didn't like her, he _loved _her. But that couldn't have been what she meant. She was feeling alone, and needed comfort, right? Certainly she was just meaning as a friend. "Of course I like you, Natsumi." He said with a smile, although she couldn't see his blushing face.

"…That's not what I meant."

Giroro froze. Not what she meant? So she did mean… His heart started pounding in his chest, his eyes searching wildly around the room. Was this a trick? What could possibly make her ask this now? "Why are you asking me this?" he said his tone slightly panicking.

Natsumi smiled softly. She could already tell the answer by the way his heart was thumping behind her hand, "Well, I overheard you talking to that alien, and you…you said you…_loved_ me. Is that true?"

This was it. She had already heard him say it once, now he had the chance to tell how he truly felt. His heart was pounding; he could feel the pressure throbbing in his ears. After taking a deep breath, he swallowed his pride, and whispered the sweet words softly. "I do love you, Natsumi."

Natsumi's response was different than Giroro had heard a thousand times in his dreams. Instead of grabbing him up, pulling his body in tight to her luscious breasts, and whispering sweet nothings into his ears, she sounded almost…mad. The tone of her voice escalated, sounding almost of anger or angst as she replied, "For how long?"

"Since the day I met you." He responded sweetly, thinking of the very first time he set eyes on his beautiful woman, and how easily she had conquered his war tactics…and his heart.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because you were happy. I know you like Saburo, and he always seems to make you smile. That's more than I can say for myself. All I care about is your happiness, Natsumi. Even if that means we could never be together, or if you never speak to me again after tonight—I just want you to be happy."

Natsumi's arms unwrapped themselves around the frog's now cool body. She had drained the warm from him, so continuing to hold him was pointless now. Besides, everything she had just learned had her in a state of irritation, confusion, and shock. All he wanted was her happiness? Stupid toad. What about himself? His words pierced her heart like daggers, making her reflect upon all the times she had been so cruel, and causing her to feel like a selfish little girl. Of course she wasn't contemplating that she might actually love the frog. He was after all, a completely different species. It just wouldn't work out—he knew that right? Of course he did, the sadness in his voice told her everything she needed to know, and some of which she didn't want to. Yes, Giroro truly loved her, he confession causing her very soul to quake as tears started to well up into her eyes.

Suddenly, an ear piercing squeal echoed outside of their metal box, replacing any remaining anger with disgust of the awful sound. When it dispersed, the large metal doors peeled themselves open, the light of their multicolored electric door blinding them temporality. Had they stopped? What was going on?

Giroro sighed, his body slouched upon a nearby wall as his face turned away from hers, "We're here."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Damn you Skyrim! XD Keeping me from writing, for shame! Well, that and school…<strong>_

_**So…damn you school and videogames! You are the bane (and love) of my existence! **_

_**Leave comments!**_


	9. All is Fair in Love and War

**C****HAPTER**** 9: A****LL**** IS ****F****AIR**** (I****N**** L****OVE ****AND ****W****AR****)**

The sound of a mechanic door rolling open whirled the heads of the hundreds of captives squirming in their cages, fear striking each and every one of them. A few screamed in terror, for they knew what was happening next. They had seen their neighbors and loved ones taken away at these stops, never to be seen or heard from again. Other began to cry. Were they next? What would happen to them if they were? The majority kept silent though, maintaining the whole, "if I can't see you, you can't see me," complex. Footsteps reverberated off of the metal hull, making the small group of Reapers seem even more intimidating. Each cell they passed by earned a sigh of relief, as their captor's eyes glanced past their pathetic forms, searching for their next victim.

"Giroro? What's happening!" Natsumi's voice shook, frightened by the escalating responses of their neighbors as the footsteps came closer. Her anxiety increased when the solider didn't answer her, and she turned her head to look upon his depressing form. He was slumped down against the cold wall, his eyes staring blankly into the distance. What had come over him? Did she do this to him? A chill shivered down her spine as another prisoner shrieked, only to stop when the footsteps passed them by. "Giroro!" Natsumi scuttled closer to the dejected toad, grabbing him forcibly by the shoulders and giving him a good shake, "Snap out of it!"

Rejection swooned over Giroro's head, weighing him down like a sack of sweet potatoes. He almost felt like Dororo whenever his trauma switch was turned on. Natsumi had discarded his love like a second-hand sweater, using him to keep warm and casting him away once his purpose was served. He had expressed his feelings, his passion for the Pekoponian woman, and yet, it didn't satisfy him as much as he thought it would. He always knew deep down that Natsumi would never return his love and that he would remain her shadowy defender, but the truth stung, wounding his mind and soul. At least temporarily, he had lost the will to fight, his body a depressing stain ready to be rubbed out of existence.

"Look, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but now isn't the time." Natsumi said sternly, releasing the amphibious lump of gloom and angst. As she stared upon Giroro's fallen, pathetic figure, tears began to well up in her eyes, realizing the hopelessness of her situation. She had broken her only chance of freedom, crushing him with the power of her words…or lack thereof. She had taken the solider a prisoner to his own emotions, turning the ferocious corporal into a broken toad.

Just when the footsteps reached their loudest point, they stopped, right in front of Natsumi's cell, their tall shadows obscuring the cells inhabitants. After one Reaper scanned its handprint, the plasma screen dispersed, and it stepped inside the cell, grabbing the Natsumi's shoulders forcibly.

"Giroro…" Natsumi muttered, lowering her head as the tears began to drip down her cheeks, "I need you."

With those words, the spark inside Giroro's soul reignited, realizing once again his purpose—to protect Natsumi. His pupils constricted as they targeted the two Reaper guards, his mind switching into combat mode. In an instant he was on his feet, dashing across the cell to Natsumi. Rearing his arm back, he landed a jaw-breaking blow to Natsumi's attacker, instinctively grabbing his plasma pistol and finishing the other off before it even had the chance to comprehend what had happened. Natsumi scrambled to her feet, kicking the wounded Reaper spitefully, before the corporal finished him point blank, its green ooze painting the back wall.

"Come on," Giroro said quickly, walking over to the other dead alien and looting its weapon as well. "Do you know how to use it?" he asked, tossing her the gun.

"Yeah I think so," Natsumi answered, observing the firearm. She had come into contact with weapons such as these before with Keroro and the others. She was always being outfitted with some sort of alien technology, so being able to use this should be simple for her.

"Just point it at whomever you want dead and squeeze the trigger." The solider remarked callously, beginning to walk through the large prison hold. For holding captives, it was rather unguarded, but it didn't need to be when all the hostages were young, terrified females. The door at the end of the room was sealed shut, making Giroro snort in frustration. "Stand behind me," he ordered Natsumi, waiting until she complied before gently knocking on the metal door.

Only a moment passed before the mechanical exit peeled itself open, with a Reaper spurting what sounded like profanities on the other side. It poked its head through the open door, confusion and alarm setting in when it didn't see its other Reaper friends, or the prisoner they were suppose to take with them. Unholstering its weapon, the alien slowly began to creep itself inside the deserted area, its four yellow eyes scanning the large space. Before it could detect the two escapees hidden away in the shadows, Giroro had lunged himself at the Reaper, wrapping his entire tiny arm around the creature's windpipe and planting the barrel of his confiscated pistol onto its temple.

"Wait! Don't shoot him!" Natsumi called, stopping Giroro seconds before he could pull the trigger.

Giroro cocked his head towards her voice, a sort of warped expression plastered on his face. However, it was not one of pure bloodlust as he usually displayed when performing these actions. It was more along the lines of an expression filled with many different negative emotions, including depression, anger, detachment, and…well the slight bit of bloodlust that kept his combat mode going. "Why not?" he questioned coldly, twisting the barrel of his gun into the Reaper's skull.

"Because…he can free the other prisoners!" she defended somewhat reluctantly, biting her lip hard. She was almost afraid of Giroro at this point. He had already taken out two of the creatures that attacked her with ease, and was going for his third and yet none of the macabre massacre he had started seemed to bother him. It was almost as if he enjoyed it, a small, wicked snicker contorting his face.

After taking a deep sigh, Giroro removed his gun front the Reaper's head, "I guess he could," he remarked, looking over its shoulder to look into one of its eyes, "Did you hear her? Release the others and I'll let you live."

The Reaper didn't respond, just sneered in embarrassment from being overpowered by a creature three times smaller than it. Giroro's eye twitched at his insolent hostage's refusal, placing the gun against its right shoulder blade and squeezing the trigger. The Reaper squealed in pain as the exoskeleton surrounding its shoulder was crushed, the plasma searing a hole straight through the other side. What the white hot beam didn't cauterize on contact sloshed onto the floor, green blood and muscle fibers littering the metal below. The alien dropped to its knees in agony, its claw-like hand trying hard to cover the gaping hole.

Natsumi turned away. She knew these aliens were her attackers, and should be punished, but the torturous methods Giroro used seem to nauseate her. She didn't mind slapping someone around or verbally berating them until their self-esteem was just shy of committing suicide, but painting the walls with their vital organs? It was too much. "_It's kill or be killed,"_ she concluded, sighing heavily as she turned her attention back to the wounded creature.

"Just free them," Natsumi insisted, mildly feeling sorry for the Reaper guard. Giroro had promised not to kill it if it complied, and yet something kept it from doing just that. In agony, it pushed itself up from the ground, the corporal jumping off of its back, and slowly began to walk back towards the metal door. Beside the door was a small keypad resembling the ones outside of each other the individual cells, except this on had a few more buttons. Using its good hand, it typed in a few buttons on the keypad before crashing to the ground in pain again. The sound of dying electricity echoed off the walls as the hundreds of technicolored screens dispersed into the air. The alien's part of the bargain finished, Giroro opted to keep his end and not kill his victim, instead delivering a powerful blow to the Reaper's temple with the butt of his gun, knocking it out cold.

"Come on," Giroro called, signaling Natsumi to follow him through the door. The prisoners were free and they could leave at their leisure, and Giroro had let the Reaper live like he promised. Natsumi was feeling rather pleased at the moment, quickly taking to her feet and scurrying behind the alert solider.

The next couple of halls going out were just as simple as when Giroro went in, except for the fact that Natsumi preferred them to be knocked out rather than have their brain splattered against the walls. That part Giroro didn't fully understand. She was always such a violent girl, something he loved in her, and yet she didn't want them to die. Kicking the shit out of them, breaking a few ribs, and possibly giving them a concussion was fine—but no killing. It irritated him slightly, but he quickly got over it when Natsumi joined the "fun", delivering roundhouse kicks to their chins and helping him drag their bodies into hiding spots. What an amazing bonding experience.

As they went through another door, they entered the last hall where the elevator that would take them straight down into the launching bay was. Their plan was to hijack one of the Reaper's transport ships and drive it back to Earth. Not an amazingly complicated plan, but it would do. By now the alarm was buzzing throughout the ship, mainly because there had been a major breach in the prison hull and all the captives were running rampant, trying to do the same as Natsumi and Giroro. As they entered, they noticed it was strangely deserted, with not a guard in sight. This alarmed not just Giroro, but also Natsumi, who by now had had her share of silencing a lot of Reapers in the previously, well-guarded hallways. Although it was strange, and someone suspicious, this didn't keep Natsumi from being filled with excitement, as the thought of going home swirled in her mind. The fiery red-head bolted down the last remaining feet of wall, rushing to the elevator door and hammering away on the down arrow. "Come on, Giroro!" she shouted enthusiastically, "We've made it!"

"Don't get too excited. We're not home yet." Although Giroro's response seemed almost pessimistic, a huge smile plastered itself onto his face, as if he was boasting to the entire universe his skills. "We still have to find a ship and drive it—" Suddenly, the soldier's words stopped dead as the smile melted from his face, rage and bloodlust taking its place. The elevator door slowly rolled open, revealing four, heavily armed Reapers, one of which was none other than Captain Fera, standing erect in front of the others. In an instant they moved into action, the other three hustling out as Cael snatched Natsumi's arm, pulling her into the elevator with him. "Natsumi!" Giroro roared as he was surrounded by the guards, all of which were pointing their rifles down upon the small red frog. He was stopped from unholstering his own, as Cael easily disarmed Natsumi, aiming her own gun under her chin.

"You two have caused me quite a bit of trouble, but I intent on getting my money's worth. Now if you'll excuse me…" Cael hummed as the elevator door shut tightly in his face, beginning its decent.

As soon as the door closed, the true action began to ensue. All three Reapers began firing their rifles, forcing Giroro to quickly retreat into the last hallway. There were side halls in that one, where he would be able to take cover. He voted not to return fire until he had found his cover, for his ammo was much more limited than his opponents. As he busted through the door, a hail of plasma fire followed behind, and he quickly ducked into a nearby corridor. There, he was able to commence fighting back, easily disabling one as it reloaded. From that point, the fire fight was a lot more heated, as the Reapers ducked behind some metal storage units, taking cover as well. Back and forth the plasma shot, scorching the walls behind both sides. _"I have to get to Natsumi!"_ he yelled in his mind, mentally cursing himself for letting her go too far ahead. If he didn't hurry, they would take off from the ship, without him knowing where they were headed.

"Damn, empty," he fumed, his mind racing to find a solution. The thrill, the challenge, normally he would love this feeling, the sound of his heart pounding in his chest as his blood pressure rose, but now wasn't the time. It wasn't only his life at risk—it was Natsumi's too. It didn't matter if she didn't return his love; he would be her Red Defender, no matter what.

Reluctantly, he charged into the gunfire, dashing towards his two opponents. Going airborne, he pounced onto one Reaper's shoulders, taking control of its arm and causing it to accidentally shoot its friend in response. With one left, he simply jerked the gun from its hands, crushing its jaw as it came into contact with the butt of its own rifle and delivering a fatal headshot. He had neutralized all three targets, their warm red blood creating a pool beneath his feet. Wait…red? Reaper blood was green. As his adrenaline subsided, pain took hold, causing the solider to crash to his knees as his grasped his arm in agony. He had been…shot? "_Damnit,"_ he seethed, gritting his teeth not to cry out in pain. For a shoulder wound, he was losing a lot of blood, his eyesight getting blurry as his body went into panic. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to save Natsumi before she left the ship, and if he didn't stop the bleeding, he might not even be able to save himself. Cael had bested him again. No matter how hard he tried, that damned captain always seemed to be one step ahead. Was it bad luck, or was Giroro losing his touch?

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><p>Cael smiled, throwing Natsumi over his shoulder as he carried her into the transport ship. Soon he would return, and everything would return to normal. By now most of the prisoners had returned to their cells, and that pesky corporal had been taken care of. Yes, he would return a rich man and once more a customer would be satisfied. He laughed, his maniacal voice filling Natsumi with fear, "Are you ready to meet your new master?"<p>

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><p><em><strong>Woot, done. What will happen to Natsumi? Or better yet, what will happen to Giroro? Stay tuned to find out! XD<strong>_


	10. Requiem for the Lost

**C****HAPTER**** 10: ****R****EQUIEM ****FOR ****THE ****L****OST**

"_Where did I go wrong? How did I end up like this? Giroro…I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I was too selfish, too blind by my stubbornness to truly see who you were. And now you're… No, I won't cry. You always admired my strength. I'll stay strong; I'll survive…for you. I'm so sorry Giroro…so very sorry. Please…forgive me."_

Even since Cael had told Natsumi of Giroro's demise, she had been lost in her thoughts, unaware of their descent towards the city-planet, Cassidia. Although she stared down at the planet's bright lights—their business and growing economy visible even in space—the Pekoponian did not see them. Instead she saw her dim future, and Giroro's blood on everyone's hands, especially her own. She couldn't get over the fact that if only she was a little stronger, she wouldn't have been abducted, and Giroro wouldn't be… No, she couldn't say that word. Besides, she didn't even know if he was…_gone_. Maybe Cael was lying to her, forcing her into submission by breaking her spirit. Well, it was working. Alive or…otherwise, her Red Defender wasn't there with her, and at least for the moment, she was on her own.

"You'll like Cassidia," Cael chimed from his position across the ship, his voice brimming with ridicule, "Lots to do, lots to see. Huge red light district, but I suppose your master won't need to go to one of those anymore." He laughed, making Natsumi shudder.

The descent only took a few minutes, wherein they were guided to a landing dock where they could unload their precious cargo. Natsumi's first impression as she walked out of the small ship was that the place was crowded. Everywhere, everything was moving. The space port was bustling with action as ships pulled in and out, loading and unloading people and freight. The dense crowds made the atmosphere hot and humid as many species of humanoids gathered together for one common goal—commerce. Through the crowds of merchants and consumers, Natsumi was pushed outside to a nearby café, where her two escorts enjoyed a nice cup of…what were they drinking? It was hot, but it didn't look as delicious as the Reapers were leading on. It slid out of the cup and into their throats like sludge, reeking of tar, sewage, and a strange whiff of citrus. Whatever it was, they didn't offer her any, which she was grateful for. The twin suns on the strange planet were beginning their descent into the vibrant sky, ships and stands turning into black silhouettes against a vivid wall of color. That meant it was evening, however, Natsumi had been kidnapped at evening on Earth. Had she spent an entire day in that horrible ship? Or was time just different on this end of space? She didn't feel like she had been awake for more than 24 hours, but the stress was beginning to catch up to her, making her slightly tired.

Just when Natsumi was about to shut her eyes and hope to catch a hint of sleep, she was forced awake by a loud cry in some foreign language. Although it came from her two Reaper "friends," it wasn't their insect jargon, or Japanese. It was a different tongue all together. The young woman turned to face the direction the words were heading towards, spotting a large, distinctively masculine, shadow slowly forming from the distance and striding towards her. In seconds it was upon them, its massive figure standing nearly seven feet tall. Natsumi didn't know what kind of alien this was; she had never seen anything like it before. It looked almost… reptilian or avian, yet without the distinctive scales, tail, feathers, or wings. Its blue-gray skin looked as hard as stone and yet as smooth as a snake's stomach. Its face held bone-like crests from which it bore long tendrils of the same substance, which sprouted off the back of its head. And those eyes, those inverted eyes. The sclerae were pitch black, contrasted by its bright blue, almost white irises. Its small blackened pupils dove directly down Natsumi's skull, its frame towering over her in a frightening display of raw power. However, no matter how strange or horrible this creature might have looked, part of it (or better yet _him_) was almost…handsome.

The new alien began to talk to the two Reapers in what Natsumi suspected to be his native tongue, for he did not stutter once. His language was almost beautiful to listen to, with its rolling R's and strong T's. The conversation didn't last long, however the reptilian one seemed slightly mad and the Reapers responded by being extremely apologetic. Their dispute ended however with a large briefcase being handed over to her captors in exchange for the electronic clipboard she had signed all those hours ago. Suddenly, the massive creature reached out and grabbed Natsumi by her delicate arm, earning an instinctive tug from her. She stopped in shock when she realized the being only had three fingers, two long phalanges, and one thumb.

"Let go of me!" Natsumi spat, jerking her arm out of his grasp. This spiteful behavior shocked the alien, who reflexively reared back his large hand, and delivered a smarting slap across her right cheek. Natsumi's eyes widened as the pain hit her jaw. She had never been hit before, the action seeming to demobilize the young woman as she stood in astonishment.

The creature twisted her jaw upwards to face him with two of his fingers, the plates on his face grinning, revealing his shark-like teeth. "You better learn respect if you are to live with me, little Pekoponian," he spoke to her in Japanese, his accent flawless, "After all, I am your master."

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><p>As Captain Fera re-boarded his main ship with his suitcase filled with money, he was greeted by two of his top guards, coming to inform him of the ship's current status. Everything was back to normal, they told him. All the prisoners, save for about ten, were successfully recaptured. Some however, they reported sadly, had to be put down for their rebellious actions. Also, the dead had been accounted for, including those killed by the Keronian soldier in his escape attempt.<p>

"And the Corporal?" Cael asked, striding back through the same halls which not even an hour earlier were stained in their kind's blood.

One of the sentries fell back from the group slightly, his demeanor rapidly changing from one with confidence, into a hesitant stupor.

"The Keronian. Where is he?" Cael reiterated, stopping to face the uneasy solider.

"We…we didn't recover a body. And it seems one of our escape pods was launched in the chaos."

Cael's two right eyes began twitching furiously as the hairs around his mandibles stood erect. In an instant he had pinned the insolent guard to the wall, his razor sharp talons threatening to pierce his subordinate's flesh. They had let that…frog escape!? If the sentry wasn't wearing his helmet, one might have caught the sheer look of horror he reflected, well, if they knew how to decipher insect facial expressions. It was then that it dawned on the captain—the Keronian was no longer _his_ problem. He was gone, fled to the planet below to rescue his beloved Pekoponian harlot. Their love made him shudder. After fully realizing his situation, he released the panicking Reaper and continued walking down the hall. He didn't have to deal with either of them any longer. The bitch was sold, the frog was gone, and he had his cash. He shouldn't be popping a blood vessel for no apparent reason. It just wasn't healthy.

After taking an elevator to the top deck, Cael entered his private quarters. It was dark, but it didn't take long for the Reaper captain to find his way to his desk and turn on a lamp. The halogen flickered to life, casting eerie shadows off of the metal suitcase. The alien plopped himself into his chair, resting his large head between his bony hands as he let out a small, relaxing sigh. It had been a hard job, but it was over now. Or so he thought.

"Stressed, are we?" a dark voice echoed from the shadows. The slaver's eyes shot opened as he scanned the distance in alarm, reaching under his desk. He always kept a pistol hidden away in case of emergencies but…wait, it wasn't there! "Looking for this?" the voice chuckled, the cold metal nipping at the back of Cael's skull. Was it mutiny? Sure things had gotten out of hand for a little while, but the situation was quickly quelled—but that voice, he had heard it before. And that accent… The Reaper's translator allowed them to be able to fluently comprehend and response to any language known within the universe. All it took was the foreigner to speak before it automatically began translating, sometimes without the Reaper's knowledge. "Oh how the roles have reversed, haven't they, Captain?"

"Corporal…" Cael spat, the words tasting of bile as they burned his throat. Giroro was alive, his guards had regrettably told him that, but they also mentioned the fact that one of their escape pods had been launched. "_So, it was all a distraction,"_ the Reaper thought callously, his mandibles twitching in both anger and humiliation. The roles had been reversed, and he was the fool.

"This time, you're going to answer questions for me." Giroro's words were twisted in a luscious cocktail of pain, bloodlust, and revenge, his breathing heavy as they fell over Cael's ear sockets. "Where's Natsumi?"

Despite his situation, Cael couldn't help but laugh at the soldier's love affair. All the hell this woman put him through and the only thing he could think about was her safety. He even had a hole in his shoulder (not that Cael knew), and was still trying to pry her location from his greedy fingers. She had him whipped. However, unlike Giroro's interrogation, Cael had nothing to gain or lose by answering his questions. That Pekoponian girl wasn't his problem anymore, and he was almost willing to give up her information just to get the war veteran off his ship.

"On Cassidia. You better hurry lover-boy, we're leaving orbit soon." He mocked, propping his feet upon his desk. He wasn't taking this "interrogation" very seriously, something with frankly annoyed Giroro, causing him to whack the back of the captain's head with his gun as he bellowed his next question.

"Why her!?"

"Oh that's an easy one," Cael answered, closing his eyes, "Because she fit the description. Young, medium build, Japanese, with natural red hair and brown eyes. Her buyer paid extra to special order. Do you know how hard it is to find a red-headed Japanese girl? She was the first one we saw, and we had been looking for three days!"

That was true; Natsumi's hair was an odd color. But was it natural? Giroro had always assumed but… He was getting off track. He knew where and why, but who had taken her? Without this piece of vital information, he would be scouring an entire planet for one girl. "Who was her buyer?"

"Oh dear. What _was_ his name? He only gave his first name; I suppose he was important political character or whatnot. Let's see…started with an A…"

"Tell me!"

"Alright, alright! Calm down. It was Ari. He was a Galean, big fucker too. Almost feel sorry for the girl, don't know if she'll stretch that far," Cael laughed, his morbid sexual humor disgusting the corporal. How dare he taint the beautiful, innocent vision he had of his love—her maiden features untouched by anyone, including himself. It was all this Reaper's fault. He had kidnapped Natsumi, terrified her, stolen the words Giroro was proclaim to her on his own, and sold her away. The embodiment of his hatred was directly in front of him, mocking his foolhardy attempts at a rescue and disrespecting his abilities as a soldier, and a man. With a scornful smirk, he pressed the barrel harder against the captain's skull, his face contorted with wrathful pleasure. "Oh, Corporal, one last thing. When you find her, remember what I told you, okay?"

He squeezed the trigger, blood spurting on his face as the beam pierced through Cael's brain. His head landed on top of his newly obtained briefcase, the thick green liquid staining the papers on his desk. Giroro spat onto the carcass, letting his enemy's juices run down his cheeks, marring his red face with the macabre insides of his victim.

"Okay."

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><p><em><strong>^_^ Done. Oh, and I uploaded a picture I drew of Ari, don't mock my coloring skills. xP<strong>_

_********tiny url c6lcxo5 (Take out the spaces for it to show.)  
><strong>******_

_**Hope that link still works! Review!**_

_**11/10/12: Small update. Nonessential.  
><strong>_


	11. Home Sweet Hell

**C****HAPTER**** 11: ****H****OME ****S****WEET ****HELL**

Cassidia. The 14th planet in the Kappa space nebula. In fact, it's not even technically a planet. It's a moon-colony, orbiting the larger planet, Galea, home to the militaristic, reptilian humanoid race of aliens called Galeans. The entire planet was actually one large city, with a population of over 50,000,000 aliens from over 1,000 different races. This particular planet was a highly commercial travel destination, much like Las Vegas is to the United States. Its terrain is mostly dry due to its close proximity to Galea's second sun, Solis 2. Activities and sights to see on Cassidia include: the many gambling halls, lavish hotels, huge red light district, and the Arena.

The Arena is one of the home planet's most ancient traditions, still embraced in modern times. On Galea, it was used to train soldiers, execute prisoners, and entertain thousands. Think of it as a futuristic alien Roman coliseum. In 82 AGC (After the Great Comet) one was built on Cassidia to reinforce the dwindled army after the comet, and bring hope to the damaged people. 500 years later a modern version of it still stands, not as a military structure, but as a sign of hope, and an entertainment plaza.

Natsumi's…master (which he insisted she call him) had acted as a tour guide while they were in the cab, pointing out buildings and monuments, and stating their history. Although her mind was elsewhere, she pretended to listen, afraid he would hit her again if he saw she was drifting. After he told her about the planet, he told her about himself. His name was Ari Vallokius, a Galean from the home planet who currently served in the city's senate. In his earlier years he had served in the Galean military as every male at age 18 had to. However, he stayed in even after his two year mandatory serve time, ascending to Second Lieutenant and overlooked the military prisons. At age 28 he retired, moving to Cassidia to serve the state.

"And now you own a slave."Natsumi sneered to herself, looking out the hovercab's window. Ari's upper lip twitched as his eyebrows drew inward. She didn't have very good manners, something which he had forgotten to tell the Reapers when he special ordered. He would have to change that, later. For now he understood that she was adapting to her new environment, and anger was her safeguard against this new world. He had studied Pekopon for years, fascinated with their primitive societies. Although, in the histories he had studied, slavery seemed to be natural at one point, so why was she so resentful?

"Slavery, as you so primitively call it, is a much respected part of our society, this star system, and many others like it. In fact, some 'slaves' can hold very esteemed positions if their Haeres, I mean master, is successful, as I am. You are an Ancilla, and I am your Haeres. You should be grateful."

The rest of the trip was silent, besides the sound of hovercrafts as they zipped by them. As time went on, less and less of these vehicles appeared, until there was no one besides their cab flying through the designated air strip. The area grew wooded, although not with the normal oak, pine, and maple trees Natsumi was used to seeing when she went to her grandmother's. Their trunks were shades of blue and purple, their willow-like leaves shrouding the road in twisting shadows.

Suddenly, the trees dissipated, revealing a large opening of turquoise grass for what seemed to stretch on for miles, when it was instantly interrupted by crude stone towering into the sky. This stone formed what was the Vallokius manor, made to look as if it was made from primitive Earthly materials, like rock and wood, and shaped like a Japanese Edo style palace. Alienistic gardens and fountains penetrated the otherwise bare sea of land as the cab drew nearer to the massive estate.

Ari just smiled as he looked upon the face of his new pet, seeing the pleasure of a familiar setting washing over her features, "Do you like it? I've spent years studying your people's culture, learning your language, adopting visual aspects of your life. You're the last piece of my collection."

_Collection…_ the word echoed in Natsumi's mind as they passed the two wooden gate doors. She felt as if she was revisiting Keroro's massive shogunate castle model, only larger and more futuristic. _(Narrator Note: Episode 59, "The House That Trash Built")_ What would become of her now? Would she be a living Hina doll, set on a platform for his amusement, or a white faced geisha, bending to the whim of her honorable master? Thinking of either made her sick, her tan face paling as her red locks casted shadows over her heavy eyes.

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><p>The streets were bustling with the multicultural hoards of travelers as Giroro pushed his way into an empty alleyway. He had brought himself to the red light district, in hopes of someone knowing who this Ari character was. The dead Reaper captain's lewd remarks about his Natsumi had made him come to the conclusion she was being used as a sex puppet, something which caused hot bile to come up his throat as he looked upon the swarm of perverts waiting to get their hands on a young little thing like Natsumi.<p>

He swallowed the rancid liquid, a hot sweat coming over him as his hands began to tremble. Just the thought of his love calling his name as she was violated by those perverted deviants, their tentacles running over her…oh god. He couldn't hold back the putrid juices this time, as they spewed onto the alleyway. What had he gotten her into? This world wasn't hers, and he should have never dragged her into it, no matter how involuntary it might have been.

The solider wiped away the remnants of vomit from his chin, looking back into the throng of unsavory people. He touched his belt buckle, remembering the treasure it held—a picture of his love, and perhaps the item that would reunite them. Mustering up the willpower, he threw himself back into crowd, searching the signs for his first target. Sooner than he had expected, his eyes befell upon a neon sign that read, "The Red Room". Its windows were tinted; the only light showing through was a soft crimson glow peering under the velvet door.

"Looks like a start," Giroro sighed, walking into the building.

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><p><em><strong>Yes, I know, short chapter and it's late. Last week was finals and now starts up my winter break. Which means the next chapter might not be for a while, because I'm going to my mom's house and she doesn't have internet :( Blaaahhhh...<strong>_

_**Edit 8/21/12: Changed the chapter title.**_

_**Edit 9/225/12: Changed the Galean mandatory military service period to age 18. Makes more sense.**_


	12. What Happens in Vegas

_**Warning, this chapter does contain sexual content which some readers might find unappealing. It's rated M for a reason, folks. If you don't want to read it, skip to the page break near end of this chapter now. **_

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><p><strong>C<strong>**HAPTER**** 12: W****HAT**** H****APPENS**** IN**** V****EGAS****…**

The first thought that came to Giroro's mind as he entered the "Vega's Red Room" was how dark it was. Every light was tinted through a deep shade of crimson, casting a warm red glow on everything it touched. The walls looked like they were bleeding passion, the suave customers keeping the chaotic feeling level as they were pleasured by the exotic staff of women. If it wasn't for the bit of blue on Giroro's belt buckle, he might have blended into the carpet, but a scratchy, out-of-place voice drew him from admiring the scenery and back into the business on hand.

"Hellooo…Welcome to Vega's, where your innermost desires come true. I am Vega. How may I help you?" the voice screeched, causing the soldier's eye to twitch as if he had just heard nails scratched across a blackboard. The voice suited its owner's looks—a scraggly old hag of a Gorganoid, an alien race that much resembled the ancient Greek's Gorgons (except her "snake hair" was just drooping tentacle-like appendages). Normally, these species were known for their seductive features, however, this one was very old, and her "features" were hanging everywhere.

Giroro averted his eyes from her saggy breast flopping over his head and pulled out the photograph he had of Natsumi from his belt buckle, "I'm looking for a girl, one that looks like this. Can you help me?"

Vega moved her face in close to the small Kodak photo and squinted her eyes to examine the girl's features. Long red hair, tan skin, a little cutie she was, and although she could tell that she was Pekoponian, and he clearly wasn't, this didn't bother her. She wasn't one to judge, especially not in the business she was in. "Hmm…I think I might be able to. Come with me." She finally croaked, placing her long fingers on the back of the corporal's head as she guided him down the hall.

The two passed by many curtained alcoves, each with their own crimson light flooding from underneath the dark purple drape. Some had sounds pulsating from behind them, sounds Giroro didn't want to think on it too heavily, for he already had a good idea what was happening behind them. "Wait in here while I fetch someone who can help you." The old alien instructed as she pulled back one of the purple curtains, revealing an empty room for him.

Reluctantly, the frog ventured into the small niche, sitting on the velvet couch positioned directly under the red scone light. The mere thought of all the men who had sat on this couch and having their innermost desires acted upon made him feel disgusted, but if he was going to find Natsumi, he had no choice but to wait it out. It didn't take long before someone came to his aid, pulling back the curtain to reveal her seductive features. Her skin was blue, but under this lighting it cast a warm indigo tone, the red halogen bouncing off of her smooth, serpentine skin and up into her golden eyes. "Picture," she mumbled under a thick accent, and Giroro was quick to oblige, hoping that somewhere in this horrid building, his love was waiting to be rescued.

Delicately, she took the photo from his hands, and looked over the girl's features hard, tracing every wisp of red hair down to her tan skin and brown eyes. She took so long studying the photo, Giroro's attention started to drift, as he began looking over her body, trying to figure out what type of alien she was. Because of the snake-like skin, yellow eyes, and the slicked back appendages acting as her hair, the corporal began to think that she might be a female Viper, if there even was such a thing. However, she was too tall, and she didn't have a cannon arm or a distinct hatred of his kind (well at least she wasn't putting on a show) so his suspicions began to subside. She was wear promiscuous clothing, a pink mini skirt and a gold, sequined tube top which obviously didn't match, well except for the golden high heels, they matched her top. He felt bad for her work conditions, and was about to say something before she quickly fled the room, taking his photo with her.

"Hey wait!" Giroro called before slouching further into the couch's recesses. For a revolting pus couch, it sure was comfortable. "_Perhaps she went to retrieve Natsumi!"_ he thought, a weak smile covering his face. She would be so mad at him when he saw her, probably even punch him in the face, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was safe, and untouched. Then they could go home, kill Keroro, and pray to whatever Keronian god he worshiped that Mama Aki didn't know of their "situation". Everything could return to normal, and they could forget any of this ever occurred. Was that even it possible? Who was he kidding? He had confessed his love to Natsumi on that damned hunk of metal; there was no way things would ever be normal again. _"All that matters is that she's safe,"_ he repeated to himself, massaging his throbbing arm wound as something moved behind his purple curtain.

The curtain slowly peeled itself open, and in walked a beautiful young Asian girl, her tan skin and deep brown eyes complimented by her fiery red hair which was parted perfectly into two even pig tails. "Natsumi…" Giroro breathed, his heart falling into his stomach as he stared upon his love. Everything about her was perfect, just like in his photo which she carefully laid in his lap, everything except her clothing. She wore what that alien before her wore, that awful pink skirt and sequined top, as well as those high heels which looked as if they were a tad too big on her. _"She must have been working here," _he thought, straightening up on the couch as she strode over to his position. "Natsumi, we're getting out of here let's—" she placed a finger over lips, hushing his words. What was she doing? Seductively, she positioned herself on the couch, Giroro's legs lying between her knees as she began to dance.

The frog's eyes widened in both horror and astonishment as he watched his love dance above his lap. Had she been brainwashed? She knew it was him, didn't she? He began to tremble as she sensually explored down his stomach with one hand and massaged the inside of his thigh. He was getting turned on, and no matter how much he tried to fight his body's natural responses, they seemed to overpower him. "Stop…stop…" he kept mumbling under his breath as he felt himself began to harden within, and the outline of his member bulging in his stomach. But Natsumi didn't seem to listen, she just continued to taunt and tease him, no emotion captivating her dull brown eyes. What was he doing? He should be pushing her off, shaking her to her senses, but the pleasure was so good, something he had dreamed about for years now. No matter how much he wanted to look away, he couldn't, he eyes fixated upon her pubescent breasts, bouncing up and down, with sweat trickling beneath her cleavage. Oh why wouldn't she stop?

Then, the name of the game changed. Instead of a mere lap dance, Natsumi's hand traveled up his thigh, until it lay upon the slit between his legs, the last thing keeping him unexposed to his delusional love. Using a finger, she trailed over the split, back and forth, back and forth, trying to coax out his erect member. This was going too far. It had changed from a simple lap dance into a happy ending, or worse. Although he had wished for this moment before he couldn't violate her like this. No, not like this. It was too…dirty. He felt dirty. Finally, he mustered up the willpower, and pushed her away, causing her to fall off the couch and onto the floor.

"What the hell!" the girl yelled, her accent as thick as that blue alien he had given his picture to. Suddenly, Natsumi's skin began to feather backwards in thousands of small scales, her skin turning blue, her hair becoming tendrils, and her eyes golden yellow. It was then that Giroro figured out the female's alien race. She was a Changer, able to shift-shape into any form their body can imagine, a perfect skill for carrying out men's innermost desires. Giroro felt sick. First he thinks his Asian beauty is a brainwashed prostitute whom he was nearly ready to violate, then he finds out he was the one being violated, tricked and teased to make a quick buck. In a panic, he rushed from the building, confused and frightened. He needed to find Natsumi, and get the hell off of this planet.

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><p>As he pushed through the crowded streets, his arousal subsided, replaced by the constant throbbing of his wounded arm. The pain was getting worse, and he could see the blood beginning to stain through his bandages. He really needed to put clean ones on, but who knew where he could find those. His head was pounding; the neon signs and bustling crowds left him feeling dizzy and nauseated. <em>"I just need to sit down for a little,"<em> he thought, resting against a glass door of a business just outside of the red light district. Giroro looked up to see the name of the shop plastered on the door. "Jeroro's Electronics" it said, and underneath in smaller letters, "Specializing in all things Keronian." Giroro reached up to his hat, removing the busted anti-barrier device. _"Just my luck,"_ he thought with a sigh, pushing on the door and walking in.

His arm was throbbing and his head was spinning as he approached the quaint little counter. Behind it stood an elderly Keronian, golden in color, with a purple Nyansapo symbol plastered on his stomach. Giroro laid the broken technology on the counter, panting as he grasped onto the plastic desk, "Can you fix it?" he asked, his hands trembling. His eye sight began to blur, his legs became weak, and his body too heavy to support the dead weight. Finally, his legs gave way, and the Keronian crashed onto the old man's floor.

"Sir? Sir, are you ok?" the old man creaked, the last thing Giroro heard before falling into his crude slumber.

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><p><em><strong>HOLY CRAP! FINALLY! What, it took like…a month! Sorry guys, but winter break is a month long, and I didn't get back home until a couple days ago. Well, finally, the new chapter is up, so tell me what you think. And we finally get a taste of what the M rating is really about, but trust me, it will get worse. Mwhahaha. <strong>_


	13. Dead or Alive

**C****HAPTER**** 13: ****D****EAD**** OR ****A****LIVE**

When Giroro opened his eyes the first thing he saw was darkness. Shadows engulfed every side of…well wherever he was. He couldn't make out any walls, a ceiling, or even a floor. It was like being in the prison hull of Cael's ship all over again, except it wasn't cold. In fact, it wasn't anything. It was an empty void, absent of temperature, light, or anything else to assure him that he was alive. Wait…alive?

In a near panic, Giroro stretched out his arms before him, twisting his trembling hands as he stared at them intently, "I can't be…"

"Calm down, Corporal. You're not dead…yet." A familiar voice called out to him as a yellow streetlight flickered on in the distance. It was Captain Fera, sitting alone on a sole park bench. Were they on a street? But where were all the cars, or buildings, or the sun for that matter? And why was that Reaper here? Hadn't Giroro killed him? "You probably have a million questions buzzing through that froggy brain of yours, so allow me to answer some for you. No, you're not dead, but you're not really alive either. You could say you're…in between. That's what you get for relying on the field medicine you learned in basic training to patch up your own arm."

His arm? The last thing Giroro remembered was walking into that old Keronian's repair shop, and how much his arm had hurt. He must have fainted, because it was a subtle memory, shrouded in nausea and agony, "This place, what is it? And why are you here?" he questioned, beginning the walk over to Cael's position. He might as well sit down, for the lack of direction was giving him vertigo.

Cael just laughed his normal, sarcastic snicker, his mandible's twitching in delight at the Corporal's confusion, "This is your subconscious, or what's left of it. Usually, this is the place where all your dreams about Natsumi or conquering Pekopon, and the subsequent nightmares that usually follow happen. But right now you're under a lot of stress, and pain, so everything is just…blank."

He was trapped within his own mind. It made more sense than him being dead, but if this was _his_ subconscious why was Cael here? "And you? Why are you here?" he asked as he approached the bench, hopping up upon it and scooting slightly away from the captain.

"I don't know, apparently because you want me here." the Reaper answered simply, shrugging his shoulders as he peered down at his amphibious rival.

Want him here? The last person he wanted to see was Cael; that was kind of the point of plastering his brains all over his own office wall, "What I want is Natsumi," he huffed, scooting farther away from the alien as he felt his eyes boring into his skull.

"Do you? If you wanted Natsumi, Natsumi would be here instead of me, answering your exact same questions. The truth is you don't want her here, because you couldn't bear the advice I'm about to give coming from her lips."

"What advice?"

"Go home. Forget about this Pekoponian who's been tricking your heart for the past two years. Two years of which, had it not been for this…girl, you could have taken over that measly planet and gone home, where hundreds of fully matured Keronian women would have thrown themselves at your feet."

With every word that poured from Cael's mouth, the solider's blood pressure rose. He didn't know what he was talking about. Natsumi was his warrior princess and she hadn't tricked him at all. Besides, Keronian women were all the same, wanting someone to fertilize their eggs and then dumping them when a bigger toad came around. "Shut up…" he seethed, balling his hands into fists.

But Cael didn't stop there, "Instead you fell in love with the enemy, an enemy that is nearly half your age! You're old enough to be her father, Corporal. She's sixteen, she's supposed to be crushing on boys her own age and going with her friends on Spring Break, not being chased down by alien mobs and stalked by a perverted old Keronian."

Really, the age card? Of course he knew she was young, but the age of legal consent in Japan is 13, so he was never a "pervert". Besides, his love for her was completely mature and chivalrous. He wasn't some sort of creepy old man taking naked pictures of her in the shower…Okay, maybe once, but still! "Shut up! I love her!" his crimson skin was turning rosy pink as his knuckles clenched tighter. How much longer was his subconscious going to berate him?

"Yeah, well she doesn't love you."

That was the final straw. Giroro's eyesight hazed over as he lunged at Cael, tackling him to the ground. Repeatedly, he hammered his fists into the Reaper's skull, until the green liquid began to pool under their bodies, "I don't care! I don't care if she doesn't feel the same! I am her Red Defender and I will rescue her, even if it means the death of me!" he yelled, his fists pounding into the meaty pulp that used to be an alien's face. When he realized the Reaper was dead (again) he stopped his malicious savagery, and began to pull himself together, taking deep breaths to sustain his sanity, and stepping away from Cael's lifeless form. He had killed his subconscious, or at least the current embodiment of it. For as soon as he wiped the blood from his chin, another figure stood in his path, however this wasn't one he despised. It was Natsumi, the back of her anyway, giggling as she ran away from him. "Natsumi, wait!" he called, sighing as he began to run after her. _"Why does she always have to run…"_ he thought, chasing after the representation of his love. "Natsumi!" he called as she ran farther, jumping into a bright white light at the end of the dark hall. With haste, he did the same, dashing into the sea of light and being washed away by its dazzling current.

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><p><em><strong>Short chapter, but I like it. Also, I posted image links on my profile which include Fera, Ari, and our newest character, Jeroro. Take a minute and check them out, and tell me if they work. Jeroro's my favorite. :) Review!<strong>_


	14. The Good Samaritan

**C****HAPTER**** 14: T****HE**** G****OOD****** SAMARITAN ****

"Natsumi!" Giroro yelled, bolting from his sleep. He had had nightmares in the past, but nothing topped the strangeness of him killing his own subconscious. As his body pulled upright, a bolt of pain jolted up his left shoulder causing him to cry out in agony. _"Natsumi…"_

"Natsumi, Natsumi, is that all you can say?" an old voice croaked from the distance, capturing Giroro's attention to his surroundings. He was in a small, one room apartment, quite quaint for this chaotic toilet of a city. Its furnishings were simple: a closet-like area in the back which Giroro assumed was the bathroom, a small kitchen adorned with a stove and tiny refrigerator, a dining/living room with a couch and coffee table, and a bedroom area with a dresser and a bed, which he was currently occupying. The only other furnishings besides the ones he already saw were the countless photos framed on the walls, and a plaque that hung across from the couch. The plaque was adorned with numerous military ribbons apparently awarded to this apartment's inhabitant, along with the rank of Warrant Officer.

"It's about time you woke up. Been asleep for an entire day. You made me have to close my shop so I could be up here, listening to you rant about this Natsumi girl." The voice nagged, playing the guilt card on an already guilt-filled frog.

When the corporal's eyes finally rested upon the old frog who had called out to him he was sitting on the couch, small sparks flying around his golden head as he worked on what appeared to be Giroro's broken anti-barrier device. The awe that had filled him when looking upon the man's plaque suddenly left him upon seeing his face, old and withered, with probably nothing but old war stories to remind him of "those days". The old man bore a striking resemblance to the Keronian in that small electronics store he had collapsed in, so he presumed him to be Jeroro, the owner of 'Jeroro's Electronics'—a fitting presumption.

"I'm not going to ask where you got that wound of yours. I don't want to know. What I do want to know is how you managed to screw up your Anti-Barrier to such an extent and then have the froggin' balls to ask _me_ to fix it! What did you do, get it struck by lightning?" Jeroro croaked harshly, smoke rising from the small emblem as he stared at it through a mounted magnifying glass.

He had got it tasered…twice, "Something like that. Can you fix it?" Giroro asked, his mind wandering away from the old geezer nagging his head off and onto the tight sling the old man had made with the remainder of his gauze, rendering his arm nearly immobile. The way he had bandaged his arm showed that he had experience in the medical field, much more experience than Giroro. Perhaps he was a medic? But that wouldn't explain his vast knowledge for Keronian technology…

"Yes, surprisingly. But it needs a new quantum-space chip, which I'll have to order from Keron. Should take about a week." Jeroro replied, earning a disgruntled sigh from his strange guest, "You're not from around here, are you?"

Such an odd question. Was it his looks? He looked just like a normal Keronian. Maybe it was his demeanor. He didn't act like most people he had passed on those crowded streets, people bustling to get to their next appointment, not giving a damn about another living being. People who hadn't seen life outside of this god-forsaken city, places void of the pleasantries they so securely held onto. But then again a lot of people weren't from "around here". Most of them were tourists, attracted on holidays or during the summer seasons, coming for relaxation and recreation. No, Giroro wasn't a resident of this planet he so desperate wanted to get away from, and he sure as hell wasn't a tourist. Such a strange question…

"No. I'm here to find someone." He finally answered after a few moments of silence, analyzing his host's words as if they bore some cryptic meaning.

Giving out a loud groan of agitation, the yellow Keronian lowered his tiny soldering iron and moved away from his set up, instead turning his attention towards the wounded stranger in his bed. His movements were slightly strenuous, his gait troubled with a limp in his right leg that caused his bushy white eyebrows to furrow with each step. "That 'Natsumi' you've been clamoring about? What did she do, run away from ya?" he laughed, his breath wheezy as his lungs mustered up the air to push out a few chuckles.

"She was taken from me, by Reapers. They sold her on this planet to some Galean named Ari. That's all I know." Giroro sighed, his voice filled with sorrow and spite as his current failures weighed heavily upon his soul.

As Jeroro sat upon the foot of his bed, his Pai Mei-looking eyebrows twisted in recognition of the name, "Ari Vallokius?"

Giroro's eyes widened as he attempted to move closer to the frog, only to be shot down when his shoulder seized with pain. This was the closest he had been to finding Natsumi and the enthusiasm was clear in his shaky voice, "You know him?"

"Everyone does, he's a senator that sits on the High Council. Preaches about peace and equality, but stuffs his villa with slaves from around the universe. Froggin' hypocrite."

"I have to see him." The soldier's voice was clear and calm, despite the anger that was building up quickly inside him. He didn't care of his job or political status. All he cared about was bringing Natsumi home.

Jeroro's fierce brows raised into a wide arch as he analyzed the boy's tone, fearing for the worse, "Whoa, hold on. No one just "sees" a senator. You have to be invited." He spoke, trying to calm down his wounded guest before his anger boiled over. However, rejection just fueled his hate, malicious thoughts swirling throughout his mind.

"I don't care! I will get her back, with or without your help!" Giroro spat, throwing the covers off him as pushed himself off the bed. But he hadn't used legs in over 24 hours, and the weight of his body caved over his flimsy legs causing him to fall face first onto the floor, unable to catch himself with just one hand.

After a moment of silence, Jeroro burst into a fit of hilarity, his breath wheezing as he stared upon the lump of red so pitifully piled on his floor. He boy was too filled with emotion to see his current situation, and sacrificed his own well being too willingly, and for what? A woman? The sight brought tears of laughter to the old man as he too hopped off his bed, moving to help the mound of frog that was Giroro. "You're a stubborn fool and you're going to get yourself killed." Jeroro mocked, helping the solider up from the ground as his legs steadied underneath him. "I know of a way you can see him, but you're too injured for it, and I fear you would only hurt yourself more."

Was he that pathetic? Needing an old man to help him stand, one that couldn't even walk straight himself, and too injured to save his love, even though now he knew who held her and had a way to get her back? No, his arm didn't matter. He could fight through pain, he had many times before on the battlefield, and this was no different. "I'll do anything." Giroro assured, sitting himself back on the bed. He would die for Natsumi's safety, he had promised himself that when he pummeled Cael's brains in. There was nothing that was too challenging for Giroro to deny if it would bring him closer to his love.

Jeroro sighed, seeing the fire in his guest's eyes. He was so determined, and his demeanor sort of reminded him of himself in another age. Stubborn and passionate, the markers of a great warrior. "There's a tournament four days from now. It's a gladiatorial competition hosted at the Arena every couple of years by Vallokius. The event attracts thousands, and it's a good political campaigner."

"How will this help me find Natsumi?"

"The winner is entitled to a cash reward and the privilege to spend a day with the senator. It's a long shot, but if you can win…"

A battle royale through many hardened warriors to save his princess in the end? Giroro wouldn't have it any other way. "I'll do it."

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><p><em><strong>I love Jeroro. He has got to be my favorite original character. He's like a mixture of Pai Mei and Uncle from Jackie Chan Adventures. "One moooore ting..." And if you don't know who either of those are, you had a very sad childhood, and I pity you. XD Review!<strong>_


	15. Break What You Buy

**_**I do not own Star Wars or the race Twi'lek, from which my Cytherians are based. ^.-**_**

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><p><strong>C<strong>**HAPTER**** 15: ****B****REAK**** W****HAT ****Y****OU ****B****UY**

It had been four days since Ari had purchased his newest pet. Four days of her disobedience towards him and four days of failure to break her in. Threatening her only made her defy him more, which he usually followed by a good hearty slap across the face. That seemed to make her obey for a few hours at the most before she returned to her normal, stubborn self. Tonight would be the night she learned her place, or fear the repercussions that would follow.

Ari's master suite was at the top of the manor's tower, overlooking his vast landscape of gardens and fields that stretched onwards towards the horizon before being harshly cut off by the edge of the forest. These flat plains of land stretched entirely around the manor, serving as a protective line of defense. His home was not a castle; it had no walls, and so the panoramic view served as a safeguard against predators lurking in the forest's cover.

However, his current enemy was not hiding within any woods. Instead, it was staring down upon him, disguised as a simple slave, overlooking his vulnerable form as her master soaked in the warm water of his post-dinner bath. Natsumi was a stubborn girl, unwilling to bend to her "Haeres'" desires, but how long could she hold out? With every act of his discipline—every shove and every slap—Natsumi's will broke slightly. How much longer until she broke completely? Giroro was gone; no one was coming to save her. She had reluctantly accepted that fact the night she descended onto this awful planet.

It was up to her to save herself. However, whenever an opportunity appeared to reveal itself it was almost instantly quelled, sometimes before she even realized it was an opportunity at all. She needed a plan. She needed a means. She needed Gi—

"Ancilla!" Ari snapped, pulling the girl from her wishful thoughts, "Come here."

Natsumi took a deep breath as she approached her master, the slave collar around her neck banging against her clavicle with each tiny step she took. Ari had taken great pleasure in dressing his pet to meet his unique…tastes. She wore a simple, blue furisode-style kimono over a delicate pink nagajuban (or kimono slip) that was held together with a darker pink chocho musubi tied obi sash. Unlike the tradition obi being tied in the back, hers was tied in front and its tails hung below her waist, brushing against the minimalistic floral pattern embroidered into the kimono. Her red hair was pulled up into a simple bun with a comb stuck in the top and some loose strands hanging in front of her face. She felt like a new-aged geshia, except she didn't wear any makeup. _"The only paint that should touch the face is war paint,"_ Ari had told her. Her white tabi socks glided across the marble flooring with ease before she knelt beside the stone tub, yielding to her master's command.

Ari sat up in his bath, the warm water parting as he slid towards his slave. "Wash me," he ordered, turning so that his back faced her.

Wash him? The thought sent chills of disgust down her spine. What did he think she was, his—oh yeah. _"Just a little longer,"_ Natsumi thought, her eye twitching as she looked around for soap and a cloth. Oddly enough, she found neither, setting her eyes instead on a multitude of oils and a strange rock. The rock resembled a piece of pumice, except it was black in color and had much coarser edges. Could this thing be what her master was wanting?

Agitation began to set in when the silence drew on, causing Ari to search for the culprit. He peeled open his inverted eyes, searching the room until his white irises settled upon his pet's confused form. Instantly, he felt like an idiot, mentally berating himself for his mistake. Of course she didn't know how to bathe him; he was the only Galean she had come into contact with. Gently, he took the black rock from her hands and motioned for her to watch.

With the coarse rock in hand, Ari stroked his opposing arm in an upwards fashion and a sound much resembling a zipper being pulled down (or an artist cutting glass) followed. Then, just when Natsumi thought it couldn't get any weirder, thousands of tiny specks cascaded from his muscular forearm, littering the tub's floor with a dusting of twinkling lights. It was an evolutionary trait, Ari had explained later, much like the hair that grows on human's arms. In their species' primitive times the tiny specks would grow into bone-hard scales that served as a protective shells, just like how a cave man's hair would keep them warm. Over millions of years, evolution took its hold, leaving their kind with only annoyingly tiny razor-sharp scale fragments that they periodically shaved away (or had someone else do it for them). With the process explained, he gave back the rock and leaned forward, exposing his back to Natsumi's hand.

"_His skin feels like a shark's,"_ was the first thought that came to Natsumi as her hand brushed against his blue-gray skin. She remembered the time she had gone to the aquarium and touched the sharks in the open tank—how smooth they were when stroking them one way, and how their skin felt like sandpaper when she moved the other direction. Dazzling specks of scales trailed down his back with each swoop of the small black rock, almost mesmerizing Natsumi as they sparkled in the water. It took her ten minutes to shave his back and five for each arm. Ari slouched back to his original position as she started on his chest, his neck propped against the tub's edge as his body floated in the cooling water. From his spot, Ari could gaze down upon his ancilla's (his slave's) breasts, their round plumpness bouncing lightly as she struggled to cut away those pesky scales. A few strands of her flaming red hair had managed to escape her loose bun, dangling within her cleavage, blocking his view further down her kimono. This would not do. Ari had specifically given her a kimono that was two sizes two large just for this purpose. Mildly frustrated, he pulled his hand from the water and drops trickled down his tri-fingered hand as he carefully pulled the taunting strands of hair from between her pubescent breasts. As he did this, he could hear his pet's breathing change, becoming more anxious. This only fueled his more. How beautiful she was, a Pekoponian goddess, and yet this wasn't even her final form. In the years to come, she would mature even farther, her hips growing wider, her hair growing longer, and her breasts growing plumper. She would be the most beautiful, exotic slave in all of Cassidia, and she would be his. All his.

Ari grabbed Natsumi's wrist as she trailed over his sculpted abs, squeezing until she released the shaving rock, letting it sink to the bottom of the tub. He could feel her heart pounding through her wrist, increasing his desire. He had become hardened with lust for his pet, aching for her reluctant touch as he shoved her hand between his legs.

"No!" Natsumi screamed in panic, struggling to free herself from his hold. When her hand finally slipped from Ari's grasp, the momentum from the tug caused it to lurch into her master's chin, landing a smarting blow to his face plate. The force from the blow caused Ari's head to turn with Natsumi's hand, his eyes following every moment of her falling backwards onto her rear and coiling her hand into her chest with fright.

How dare she refuse him and the gall of her to strike him afterwards! It was he who gave her a home, warm clothes, and a bed. He had taken her disobedience for far too long. She would learn her place, or suffering would be her teacher. Ari stepped from the tub, water dripping off his monstrous frame. With every step he took towards his shaking pet, she scooted two steps backwards, until she hit a support column jutting out from the floor. With his inverted eyes targeting his prey, Ari grabbed a chunk of Natsumi's hair and lifted her until his other hand could wrap around her precious throat. Those marvelous screams of pain his victim let out only seemed to fuel him more as he tightened his grip, silencing her cries, a wicked smile contorting his plated face.

"You had to be so stubborn, didn't you? Didn't you!?" Natsumi struggled to breath, clawing at her master's hands, "Well? Answer me you selfish cunt!" The Galean yelled, proceeding to smack her across the face and shove her into a nearby vase, which shattered under her fall.

Natsumi panted as the air poured into her lungs, making her cough and wheeze with her breath's sudden return. The shards of ceramics she laid upon were sharp to the touch, threatening to slice her delicate skin under their weight. Pain and fear slowly began to turn into anger and fury as she realized her opportunity, slowly standing up with a pottery fragment in hand.

Ari laughed as he watched his pet rise with her scavenged blade, that defiant look still flaring in her eyes. Did she honestly think she was going to kill him? He was a decorated war veteran that had served in the Galean-Drura war, a war that wiped out nearly his entire company. Those who survived were instantly promoted for their valor. This granted him the rank of Second Lieutenant and he was re-stationed to the military prison where the Druran POW's were held. Ari was placed in charge of many key interrogations that eventually avenged his fallen comrades, implementing tortuous actions to extract information. He knew about pain and the body and how to both avoid it, and use it to his advantage. Did she really think she would stand a chance?

"What are you waiting for? Come at me!" Ari mocked, widening his arms to give her a fair shot at his vulnerable, nude form. Letting out a blood-curdling cry, Natsumi charged with shard in hand, thrusting it forward to meet the center of Ari's torso. A mere second before the blade could graze his flesh he flinched sideways, allowing the shard to pass him not even an inch above his chest. As Natsumi missed, her projected momentum caused her to crash into the edge of the tub, sending her weapon flying off to the side. This gave Ari just enough time to grab the back of her head and force it into the water, holding it there for half a minute before bringing her back up for air.

"What do I have to do to teach you to behave?" Ari asked as his slave gasped for air, before he thrust her head under the water once more. "I don't like hurting you, Natsumi. But you leave me no choice. You just have this…fire in you that I can't seem to snuff." She struggled under his hand, her feet kicking and head thrashing to get air. Although she was a swimmer, she would normally have enough time to fill her lungs with air before diving into the water, instead of the mere second Ari gave her before he pushed her back under the surface. "Stop fighting me! I am your Haeres! I don't give a damn about your life before now, it's gone. Do you hear me!? Gone!"

The longer Natsumi stayed under the water, the more everything Ari said began to make sense. She was so far from home and no one was coming to save her. She had already realized this, but she had still held onto that tiny fragment of hope of getting away. It seemed so clear now that she would never escape. And even if she did, how would she get home? And even if she managed to find a way, and make it home, what was there to return to, really? A broken home with an absent mother, deserting father, and a brother that cared more for distant worlds, just to escape the one he lived in? The longer she stayed under that cool water, the more lucid everything became. Her body went limp as she finally stopped struggling under her master's grasp, allowing him to rest his hand as she held herself under the water.

It only took a few minutes for Ari to achieve victory over his defiant pet. With a wide grin, he pulled Natsumi out of the water and let her fall to the floor, a dead look capturing her entire façade. He had finally broken her after four days of disobedience. All that was left was to seal the deal. As he wrapped a towel around his waist, he called in another slave of his, Mira. She was a Cytherian, a humanoid alien easily identified by their various colored skins, brain tails, and natural beauty. Because of this, they were easily targeted for slavery; however she seemed to take some pride in her life as Ari Vallokius' servant.

"Clean her up and then bring her to me," he ordered plainly, leaving the two women alone in the large bathroom.

Mira sighed as she placed a light green hand upon Natsumi's shoulder, watching her curl into the feeble position with her touch. "You just couldn't listen, could you?"

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><p><em><strong>Ugh, the fifteenth chapter is finally done! And it only took me…a week and a half! Grrr…stupid school starting back right as I was getting back into the swing of things. It just had to interrupt everything, didn't it? Lol. Well here's the new chapter, all about Natsumi and her time with our favorite bad guy, Ari Vallokius, as well as an introduction of a new character, Mira. Review, of course. :)<strong>_


	16. Ancilla

**C****HAPTER**** 16: ****A****NCILLA**

Two days earlier…

"Stop fidgeting!" a servant scolded as she tried to comb back Natsumi's hair. She had introduced herself as Mira, a slave-born Cytherian with green skin and two large brain tails that protruded from either side of her skull. Despite her strange alien features, she was stunning to look at, her amber eyes contrasting wonderfully against her minty green skin, which wrapped tightly around her delicate feminine features with striking beauty. Sexuality just oozed from this woman, whether she meant it to or not, turning the heads of any male servants or guards that happened to cross paths with the exotic maiden.

And yet, despite all of her obvious alien features, something else made her seem even further from human. It was her eyebrows, she had none, just a bare patch of oddly colored skin above each eye. In fact, she had no hair on her body at all, not even eyelashes. Her skin was smooth and clean, like an infant's after exiting its mother's womb—not a follicle to its name. That might have been why Mira was taking such a long time with Natsumi's hair, fascinated with the odd strands of protein. Every time she pulled it into a bun, she would complain about it being too small, or too big, or leaning to one side a little too much, and would take it down and proceed to redo the entire thing.

All the while, the exotic servant's victim continued to stare into the distance, a look of angst captivating her face. It hadn't even been a full day since she was sold to this Galean monster—and since she had last seen Giroro. Guilt and mourning begged to take hold of her psyche, longing for her to break down and give into the pain, but she would not. Giroro would have wanted her to be strong. It was strange, light-years away from her home, her mother and her brother, Koyuki and Saburo, and all she could think about was that silly red frog.

For over two years he had loved her in silence, and when that silence was finally broken they were ripped apart. How tragic. She knew she could never have returned his love, but why was that? He was her friend before, someone whom she could pour all of her troubles into whenever Mutsumi didn't exactly catch onto her passes and at the same time take all the punishment she dealt whenever his platoon did something inexcusable. Why couldn't she feel the same for him? Maybe it was because he was an invader? No, they had pushed past the bonds of invader/invadee one too many times. Perhaps it was because he was an alien? But he acted so human, and she wasn't really aware of the vast number of different humanoid alien species until now. If inter-racial relationships were normal on Earth, who was to say that inter-species relationships weren't normal elsewhere? Still, something about it didn't feel right. Could it have been because she was in love with Saburo? Love—such a strong word. She had been chasing that boy since elementary school, crushing and being swayed by his boyish charms for years without luck. Frankly, it had come to mind lately the possibility that he wasn't interested in girls at all, or at the very least, not _this_ girl. So why couldn't she just give up on that tall order that was Saburo and give her heart to someone of slightly…shorter stature?

Because he was dead, and she had been the cause for his demise. Dead, a word Natsumi promised herself she wouldn't use now reverberated throughout her thoughts. Yes, Giroro was dead and she was his murderer.

Natsumi's shoulders began to quiver and her breathing grew distressed as the tears rolled down her face, staining her pink kimono slip.

"Shh, please don't cry! I'm all done, see?" Mira anxiously spoke, thinking the reason for the young girl's sadness was how long she had taken doing her hair. Needless to say, Mira struggled with human emotions. She held a small mirror in front of Natsumi so she could see her new hair. Her bun was a little loose and slightly drooping, but it was good enough so that Ari wouldn't take notice.

As Natsumi stared at the silver glass, a strange figure looked back. Its flaming hair flowed wildly around its pallid features which bore a frighteningly wicked expression. Crimson blood streaked down the figure's visage, bordering each side of its horrendous grin. In terror, Natsumi swatted the mirror from Mira's hand, causing it to shatter into pieces on the hard, wooden floor. What she didn't account for was the injury she would receive when a stray sliver of glass sliced her hand and blood dripped onto the broken façade of a cheerless young woman.

"Ancilla, you must be more careful!" Mira panicked as she frantically searched the room for something to stop the gushing wound, "Haeres will not be pleased when he sees you've cut your hand." Her eyes darted to the towel she had used to dry Natsumi's hair after her bath. She grabbed it and rushed to the girl's aid, but she flinched away.

"Stop calling me that! I'm not his An-whatever, and I don't give a damn what that overgrown lizard thinks!" Natsumi yelled, huffing furiously as the hot tears stung her face. Luckily, her wound wasn't that deep and clotting set in almost immediately, rendering the towel Mira had offered useless, so instead the naïve Cytherian turned her attention to clean up as she struggled to understand the reason behind Natsumi's outburst.

"You know," Mira began softy as she placed the bloody shards onto the thick, white cloth, "I envy you. I always wished I could have been an Ancilla."

"I'm not an—" Natsumi started again before being cut short.

"To be an Ancilla is a great honor, something that many slaves wish to become. For some of us, it would be the closest we could come to being free."

Although Natsumi's anger didn't subside, it had settled down greatly from Mira's last statement, the gap being filled instead with sentiment and also confusion. Didn't the word "ancilla" just mean slave? By the way Mira had talked, it seemed like it had a much more important meaning. Just what had she been pulled into?

"Mira, what _is_ an Ancilla?"

Mira couldn't help but laugh. So ignorance had been the cause for the young woman's anger? It seemed to make sense; she had overreacted because of the confusion of her role. Hopefully, her next words would put Natsumi at ease. "An Ancilla is _basically_ the Haeres' most favored servant. You'll stay by the master's side constantly, serving him almost exclusively. Because of your constant presence, you get to attend many social gatherings we "normal" slaves wouldn't dream of. Since it's such a demanding role, after a Haeres gets tired of his current Ancilla and finds a replacement, the Ancilla is granted freedom and citizenship! Isn't that wonderful?"

So Natsumi was _basically_ eye-candy that bended to that freaky alien's every desire until he "grew tired" of her? Maybe she could make this work in her favor…

"So if I annoy him enough, he'll let me leave?"

Mira laughed again. Were all humans this funny? "No, he'll just revoke you're title and you'll become one of us, or he'll resell you. Although he has been known to kill servants that get too rebellious, but it's usually their fault."

…Or not. Natsumi certainly didn't want to die. That would defeat the whole purpose of escaping. But she didn't want to spend another day on this planet either. Did her only other option have to be so desperate?

"Not if I kill him first."

Mira froze. The shard she held slipped from her grasp in her shocked state, falling back to the floor and breaking into two. Had this girl really just contemplated the death of her, no, _their_ master? In still silence the servant rose from the floor, reared back her hand, and delivered a smarting slap across Natsumi's face. Natsumi grasped her cheek in pain, a dumbstruck expression captivating her glance. Was she just a punching bag for everyone? What had driven Mira to become so serious so fast? Surely she wanted Ari dead too. No one could truly be content with a life of servitude, right?

"You bite your tongue and take back every word you said," Mira hissed, "You're going to get us all killed with that mouth."

Killed? All of them? What was she talking about?

"…You don't know, do you?" Mira sighed, relaxing slightly as she shook her head in frustration. Why did she have to be the one to teach this child everything? "According to Galean law, if any slave kills his/her Haeres, all the slaves who lived under the same roof are sentenced to death."

Torture and then death. Natsumi felt her shoulders begin to quake again as the tears built in her eyes. There was no way out. Not without killing everyone else in her way. Could she really sacrifice everyone here for a selfish dream they all shared?

"Look, I know you don't know us rather well, but we're all a family here. Just…don't do anything stupid, ok?"

* * *

><p>Present time...<p>

"My Haeres, I deliver your Ancilla." Mira spoke as she and Natsumi knelt behind Ari's bedroom door. Footsteps could be heard from the other side, their intensity increasing with Natsumi's heartbeat as they drew nearer. A few drops of water dripped from the girl's quickly reworked bun, blending into her half-soaked kimono. Mira had done her best to clean her up in the little time she was given. Her hair was neat, her clothes were halfway dry, and she had cleaned up her attitude. In fact, nearly all the rebellious thoughts Natsumi had once believed in had seemed to vanish, pushed so far into her subconscious that she couldn't muster up the courage to awake them once more.

Only a few moments passed before the wooden door slid open and she was staring at the forked foot of Ari Vallokius. He was wearing a black silk robe, untied, which revealed the same towel around his waist and his blue-gray chest puffed out in a display of authority. Mira nudged Natsumi forward, and yet the disheartened girl couldn't stop staring at the odd protrusion on the back of her master's knees. A little bone jutted up from the back part of his knee, arching up like an inverted talon. It was strange and fascinating, until he noticed her interest and closed his robe, obscuring the girl's view.

Ari pulled Natsumi up to a standing position and led her inside his bedroom, sliding the door shut behind him, leaving Mira alone in the hallway. The Cytherian sighed as she watched the door shut in her face, whispering soft pleas to the human girl. "Please don't do anything stupid…"

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><p><em><strong>Honestly, this chapter was <strong>__**supposed**__** to just have a small flashback and then the major action between Natsumi and Ari, but I kinda got carried away and it turned into the chapter itself. Oops. Tell me what you think. :)**_

_**PS: The law Mira talks about is actually a Roman law called senatus consultum Silanianum. I got that from Spartacus: Blood and Sand, as well as Mira's name. Good show. **_

_**PSS: I realized that in the first and second chapters I said that Natsumi's Spring Break was a week long. However, upon further investigation I found that Japanese schools get TWO weeks off for Spring Break (lucky), which actually would work better with my story. So I changed it. If you ever re-read chapters 1 and 2, the changes should be there. If there are any discrepancies within the other chapters, please don't hesitate to tell me, and I'll change them promptly. **_


	17. Yellow Fever

_**Warning: This chapter contains sexual, M-rated material which some readers might find controversial and/or offensive. Please skip this chapter now if you don't wish to read it.**_

* * *

><p><strong>C<strong>**HAPTER**** 17: ****Y****ELLOW ****F****EVER**

Ari Vallokius was an otaku. He was obsessed with all things Asian and adorned his vast estate with treasures he had gathered throughout his many travels to planet Earth. Of all the countries he could have chosen to tour, Japan was by far his favorite. Nearly every year he would take a trip down to the foreign island disguised as a cosplay enthusiast. It was easy to blend into a society that thrived on anime and video games which featured strange alien characters when he was one.

Amongst his travels he had acquired many unique items which he displayed prominently in his home and bedroom. Lavishing sumi paintings hung everywhere, his floor was padded with tatami mats, and unique Japanese furniture was pushed against his walls. He had statues from India and Thailand, and a bamboo plant he had personally bought in China. All of his female servants wore thin nagajubans, and while lounging around his home, Ari typically adorned a male kimono, complete with a black haori and hakama. Yes, Ari Vallokius loved all things Asian so much that one might say he had yellow fever to the extreme. That was why he had chosen Natsumi as his ancilla; she was the crowning piece of his vast collection.

The towering alien led the girl further into his domain, his hands clutching her shoulders without much resistance. He could feel the wetness of her kimono underneath his palms, her wet hair dripping onto his sandpaper-like skin. A grand smile cracked open his face plates as he listened to the trembling breaths of his little pet. Even caked with despair, she was still beautiful. Water droplets trailed down her shivering shoulders, slipping down those C-cup breasts, which Ari observed with much delight. He watched until the bead of water crept out of his side, trailing down Natsumi's adolescent form. With haste he chased after the drop, shoving his hand down the front of her garment as he took hold of one breast, clutching it in glee. His pet squealed with anxiety, thrashing out in rebellion from his touch. Had she not learned her place from the bathroom incident? Why did she continue to fight him when there was nothing to gain from it other than pain and torment? Ari clutched down on her shoulder harder as he began to fumble around within her garb, a pleasing laugh parting his lips as she began to cry for help.

_"What are you doing, Natsumi! Fight back!"_ her mind screamed to her, urging her into another pointless struggle. With much effort she managed to force herself from his grasp as she clasped closed her exposed top. The vast amount of wet fabric weighted her down as she stumbled backwards and the large Galean quickly pursued her vulnerable form. She had painted herself in another corner, and this time she wasn't armed.

"There's nowhere to run. Why don't you just stop fighting and give up. This could be quite enjoyable for you as well…" Ari urged, opening his robe and sliding out the small strip of black fabric that kept the garment tied.

Give up? Oh how much she wanted to. She had nearly renounced all hopes of escaping this planet alive, succumbing to the display of her master's endless brutality and raw power. Even on her best day, Natsumi wouldn't stand a chance against this alien war hero whom had defeated her so easily with one hand. She knew she would never be able to best him head on. Then why did she keep fighting? Was it to hold onto that small amount of humanity she still held close—that will to live her life to her own accord, to be able to make choices, even in the chains of slavery? Or if not for the sheer fact that she didn't wish to become a human sex puppet; the thought of even touching that reptilian bastard sent chills all over her body. She would fight, even in the face of inevitable defeat, just to remind herself of that distant hope of returning to her broken home.

Letting out a battle cry, Natsumi charged the blue reptile, rushing at him with fists ready. Ari unexpectedly let her connect, allowing her to thunder away her fists at his bone-hard pectorals. Her blows easily deflected off his thick skin without leaving a mark or any other indication that she had struck him at all. In face of her defeat, Natsumi clenched up, her shoulders trembling as she braced herself for the slap she knew was coming. Moments of silence past before she dared to look up at her master, fearful, but still curious on why she wasn't being disciplined for her outburst.

Instead of being presented to the back of Ari's oddly shaped hand, she was greeted by a grand display of his shark-like teeth, curled up into a wicked grin that bore itself deep into her soul. He was…enjoying this? All her pain, all her futile efforts, they pleased him!

Suddenly, Ari leaped into action, shoving Natsumi back onto his bed and springing on top of the thrashing girl. He made quick work of her hands with the black strap from his robe, tying them above her head and fastening them to the bed's headboard. Once her arms had been disabled she began to kick wildly, flaying her legs in a desperate attempt at freedom. But with Ari's gargantuan form positioned on top of her hips, they were practically locked into place from his weight, rendering her struggles inconsequential. With ferocity, he tore open Natsumi's wet kimono, freeing her breasts from that tantalizing prison. They blissfully bounced around her exposed chest as she continued to struggle to no avail, kicking and screaming, trying to bite and spit. Was this girl so deprived of passion or euphoria that she found his actions most heinous? Perhaps she was a virgin, he certainly did enjoy those, void from any concept of an orgasm. If this was the case (which it was) he would have to instruct her in the art of ecstasy.

As Ari forced her legs apart, he slid his hand up her thigh, massaging the thick muscle as he worked his way up. Once arriving at her innocent hive, he gently peeled open those delicate flaps, revealing the pink button he was certain would change her demeanor. Using his thumb, he proceeded to tenderly massage her sweet spot, rolling the tiny mound under his strong finger.

Oddly enough, Natsumi did indeed cease her endless screams and had stopped kicking her feet all together. For at his touch her cries turned into muffled sobs, and her toes curled in disgust as her thighs convulsed involuntarily. Blood rushed down to clit, the heat radiating from behind Ari's thumb. She could feel the blood pulsing in her groins and her heart pounding in her throat, begging for her to let out even the tiniest moan.

It felt…_good._

It was disgusting andwrong, and her mind screamed for him to stop, even though her body wished otherwise. Tears streamed down her hot cheeks and her breath was short and rampant. Her teeth bore themselves into the soft flesh of her lower lip, praying that the pain would drown out this filthy pleasure. As the blood trailed down her chin, Natsumi twisted and pulled her wrists, desperately trying to free herself from the well-tied bonds. She had to break away soon, before this went any farther.

"Mmm…look how wet you've gotten," her master cooed, his affectionate words soaked in cruelty as he slid one finger inside her drenched slit. His path was only halted for a brief moment as he punctured her hymen, earning a yelp of pain from his victim. Blood tinged the end of his finger, which he almost too eagerly licked off, before ripping the towel from his waist. Once he was fully exposed, he spread her knees apart until they touched the bed, positioning himself for entry. "Don't worry my little pet; it will only hurt for a minute…"

"No. Please stop. I'll be good, I'll do anything, just not this…" Natsumi begged, her tears blurring her vision as she continued to tug her bonds.

Ari just laughed as he stared down at the shattered façade of his pet. Her breathing was uneasy from the tears she shed as her frantic efforts to get away failed with each tug. The site delighted him as he saw just how far he had made the rebellious teen fall in a matter of days. He would admit she had had a tough shell to crack, but after he was finished, he was sure that shell would burst into a thousand pieces. Letting her plea one last time, the colossal Galean slid himself inside her, and began to thrust his hips.

Just as before, Natsumi began to scream and writhe, begging for him to cease his powerful shoves into her tiny body. Every thrust grew in intensity, his massive hands clenching onto her delicate hips, holding her body steady as he continued to fill her. Unlike before, this wasn't disgustingly pleasing. The sheer size difference between them caused her great pain, as she felt like her insides were tearing open with every push he gave. As he grew in speed, so did Natsumi's yanks as she heard a small ripping sound coming from above her head. His body began to sweat as he went faster, loud moans escaping his throat as he fell deeper into the pleasure of forcing himself upon this squirming child.

The ripping sound Natsumi heard grew louder as she tugged her cloth hand binds, feeling them loosening around her wrists. Her first time wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to give herself to someone she loved, who she was going to marry and planned to spend the rest of her life with—not this horrible sadistic creature. In less than a week she had been ripped from her home and turned into some alien's sex puppet. She could feel her mind slipping away with every groan Ari made; every thrust he gave pushed her further into submission. Finally, as if a godsend, the cord finally snapped freeing her rope-burnt wrists, but it was too late. Just as Natsumi's freedom was secured, Ari let out a terrible cry that shook the entire room as he released his sexual juices into her body, finishing this horrid escapade.

Natsumi didn't even try to fight back after that. She just stared up at the ceiling, her face void of any emotion, and her eyes too empty to shed any more tears. That was it. She wasn't escaping. There was no more hope. Her body was numb from the angst, and she didn't feel Ari's last act of cruelty. He bit down onto her right breast, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh before he pulled them back out. The mark would no doubt scar, leaving a permanent memory of this endless nightmare.

"You're mine…forever." Ari whispered as the blood dripped off his chin.

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><p><em><strong>Finally done! I never imagined how difficult smut was to write. I wonder if I went too far...NAHHHH! For those of you who actually read this far, review!<strong>_


	18. The Arena

**C****HAPTER**** 18: The Arena**

Excitement pulsated throughout the city-planet of Cassidia. Senator Vallokius was hosting a gladiatorial tournament at the Arena toady, free to the public, which would showcase the finest warriors from the Houses of Pulorius and Bauxtius. Both of these houses always provided the top fighters, their skills unsurpassed by anyone except each other. For that, these two great houses hated one another, as their slave-gladiators constantly competed against each other for the winner's circle. Warriors not belonging to either of these houses were still encouraged to join, however their fall was nearly predetermined by hands of the Arena's current champion, "The Hand of Death" Ragnarök. No one dared go against this Druran monster. Word had spread of his many accomplishments, some more plausible than others. Some of the most outrageous one was him killing a hundred men in a single battle, being cut over a thousand times, and taking a saber to the heart and living.

He would be a challenge to whoever ended up fighting this beast, but the reward would be great. For the winner of the tournament 50,000 Cassidian Credits as well as a day with the senator, although the first was the only one publicly announced. In Giroro's mind, his only hope for seeing Natsumi again was to win this tournament, regardless of how many competitors he would have to kill. Their deaths didn't matter; they were simply another obstacle blocking his way.

For the past few days the corporal had been training under the tutelage of one retired Warrant Officer Jerero, who had even gone so far as to dawn on his old ACU's topped with a drill sergeant's hat he mysteriously conjured from that black hole he called a closet. There was actually a dimensional portal nestled behind his closet door, hidden away in an inconspicuous suitcase (much like how the platoon's entrance to their secret base was in a fridge). Those are the types of things that one can make when they've worked with Keronian technology most their life.

Despite the days Giroro spent with Jeroro training, the golden toad had been very difficult when it came to the topic of his past. All the corporal had managed to get out of him was that he had been a recon specialist, with expertise on Keronian technology and that he had had his wife in his squadron, Darlala, who had been their field medic. Any further inquiry about his wife had been quickly shut down by ordering fifty "frog-ups" for "having his head in the clouds".

Jeroro had worked Giroro harder than anyone had ever pushed him, harder than he even thought he could accomplish. It was like being in basic training all over again. Three days of pure, unadulterated hell, all to get him to these few steps, the steps of the Arena. As the crimson toad stared up at the grand, conical structure, he could see the twin suns beginning to rise over the building's crest, filling him with a sensation of great accomplishment. His mouth twisted into the beginnings of a smirk, as he watched the building silhouette before the ascending suns.

"So, are you going in, or are you just going to stay here?" a familiar voice croaked from behind him, a wheezing laugh following his statement.

Why wasn't he moving? Was he truly captured in the beauty of this heinous planet's sunrise, or had fear suddenly washed over him with Jeroro's words? What if he was to fail? It would mean losing Natsumi, forever, as he fell on these foreign sands. This was his fight, his battlefield, stained with the blood of many faded dreams. But those dreams were not his own. His were not of fortune or freedom, they were of love, and he would ignite this stage with the fire of his heart, burning anyone who dared to step in his path.

The inside of the coliseum was just as magnificent as the outside, the grand pinnacle of new alien technology blended with elements of the old. Stadium seating was embedded into the structure of this conically shaped arena, all facing towards the wide cylindrical pillar in the center. This, Giroro presumed, was his battlefield, his final obstacle. The tournament was only hours away, and the anticipation pulsated throughout the Keronian's tiny body, his body and mind fixated on his objective, only time halting his march to victory.

Suddenly, a Galean male approached his left flank, cutting Giroro's attention from the coliseum's stage and onto this monster of an alien. The Galean was dressed in a garment constructed to resemble their race's ancient culture. It was similar to the Pekoponian's ancient Roman wear, with a dark blue tunic tied off with a white sash and interesting looking sandals which didn't appear to actually fit his feet all too well. Although the alien was polite in manner of speech, his tone was direct and almost haughty as he looked down on the tiny frogs with that Galean pride. "Pardon me, gentlemen, but the Arena is closed for viewing until the tournament begins. You'll have to leave." His said, his tri-fingered hand gesturing to the gate they were just at.

Giroro's eyes narrowed in scorn as his scar twisted to match his sneering façade. How dare he interrupt his private moment just to tell them to leave!

"Don't you know who this is?" Jeroro croaked, his lips turning with a smirk as he pointed his walking cane he had brought with him at the alien's chest. "This," the cane suddenly pointed towards the corporal, "will be your new champion."

A moment of silence passed before the Galean burst into laughter, his baritone voice shaking the walls, "He's…a participant? Are you his Haeres?"

Oddly enough, Jeroro chuckled right with him, realizing his amusement would be the typical response no matter who heard it, "No no, he's sponsoring himself."

However, with the old frog's last remark, the stranger's attitude suddenly grew serious once more, as his inverted eyes bore down onto Giroro's lumpy frame, "Sir, do you have a death wish?" he asked quite gravely.

"Death wish?" Giroro blinked, thinking about the Galean's words. He hadn't actually pondered too deeply about dying, probably because failure had only once occurred in his thoughts. "I'll beat everyone who gets in my path, so bring them on!"

"We'll see. Well, you can go wait with the other combatants. I'm sure they'll be _thrilled_ to see a freeman competing." With those words, the Galean took his leave, chuckling softly to himself as he vanished from the frogs' views.

"Don't let him get to ya, just go out there and show them what the Keronian military is made out of." Jeroro smiled, pushing the red frog farther into the Arena.

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><p><em><strong>Yeah, I know, you don't have to say it. I'm late, way late, like…more late than late. What would that even be called….super late? I was having a major writer's block, which I'm not quite over as you can probably tell by the quality of this chapter. So yeah, I'm sorry, and here's your chapter after a month. The next one will have this tournament actually starting (finally), how exciting. Yay gore! Umm…review?<strong>_


	19. Cassidia's Arena Of Death: I, Claudius

**C****HAPTER**** 19: C****ASSIDIA'S ****A****RENA OF ****D****EATH:**** (I****, ****C****LAUDIUS****)**

The underbelly of the Arena was a cold and dark with nothing but the faint sound of the roaring crowds and the soft rustling of chains to keep ones sanity on edge. These chained men, like pigs awaiting a slaughter, or better yet, dogs facing their final fight. The second their leash was unhinged, they would leap at their comrade's throat, ready to gore their own brother for the attention and praise of their master. These were Giroro's thoughts as he waited for his "most certain death".

The only light present within these holding chasms were from the small cracks in the ceiling, which sand fell through as people treaded above. From this flickering light, the sight of many blank faces protruded out of the shadows, their alien facades void of any emotion beyond that of fury. Among this collaboration of multicultural beings, three races seemed to be most predominant in their numbers. These were the Haygs, the Grall, and the Druras. Oddly enough, Giroro only spotted one Galean gladiator, probably because everyone there except for himself was a slave, and the Galeans didn't normally enslave their own (however there were always exceptions). Luckily for the Keronian, he had learned about all these creatures in his combat training, however he had never faced any of these races on the battlefield before. As his eyes scanned over his soon to be targets, information and battle tactics began to play in his head like a handbook on a cassette tape.

"_The Haygs are humanoid aliens with four vertical pairs of eyes, and a triangular shaped mouth with two rows of jagged teeth. They have a forked chin and a caved in forehead with what looks like fish fins for ears. They have no noses, and seem to breathe through a hole on the apex of their weirdly shaped mouth. Their skin comes in a variety of colors, but most often a red-ish tint, and is a tough, leathery quality. They are extremely muscular, and stand anywhere from six to just under eight feet tall. They have four fingers and needle shaped nails designed for puncturing their prey. _

_They are of moderate speed and intelligence, and their true strength lies in their brutality. Their nails will stab and rip through muscle and their teeth will break bone. They have a thick skull that will absorb damage well. Their downfall is in their endurance. Because they have only one orifice for respiration, they become out of breath rather quickly, which can be hastened further by exploiting their short temper."_

The corporal's eyes darted across the room until they settled on a different race to examine.

"_The Grall are humanoid aliens that much resemble the Galeans. Their main differences are that the plates on their skin are significantly thinner, and the bony crests that protrude from their scalps are much short and pointier. They are also leaner and short than the Galeans, and instead of blue, their skin is a greenish tint. Their eyes are completely black and they have a very defined nose and mouth region. They also have three fingers and toes, which have small webbing between them. Because of this, they are very good swimmers. _

_They are extremely agile and fast, but their weakness is their eyesight. Although they aren't a nocturnal species, their eyes are not well equipped to deal with direct sunlight. Because of this, most Grall's wear sunglasses or wear tinted contacts. However, these are slaves, so I don't think they will be afforded that luxury."_

Lastly, the small frog looked upon a Druran, a tank of a creature, whose nostrils flared as it caught sight of the tiny Keronian, possibly thinking of him as an appetizer before the Arena's main course. This was also the race of the current Arena champion, "The Hand of Death", Ragnarök.

"_The Drura are one of the most resilient alien races in all the known galaxies. They stand over 8 feet tall and can weigh nearly a ton when wearing armor. They have bone hard humps that protect their skin, and also store fluids and nutrients, which enable them to survive the harshest environments without food or water, much like the Pekoponian's "camel". Their hides are nearly impenetrable to outside attacks, and environmental hazards, like toxins, radiation, and extreme temperate changes. However, the most impressive feature of this race is their redundant organ systems, which cause the being to grow more than one type of organ, like two hearts, four lungs, and a complete secondary nervous system (which makes them impossible to paralyze). Because of this, they are extremely challenging to kill, as someone can pierce an enemy Druran's heart, and the second one will take its place._

_Their only weakness is similar to the Hagys—their temper. They are bred as a warrior species, and their bloodlust is immeasurable. However, too much rage can lead to careless mistakes, like a bull charging blindly at its prey."_

As his ramblings reached their endpoint, Giroro let out a calming sigh and relaxed his head on the metal wall behind him, closing his eyes and he tried to shut out the roaring crowd, whose chants were growing louder by the minute, their cheers and songs, though they were meant to be uplifting, brought the sense of nervousness upon the small frog.

Soon, those gates would open, and one by one these men would be sent to their deaths. Although some would come back alive, they would be sent back at a later time, decreasing their chances of surviving again. To be able to win, Giroro would have to overcome these decreasing odds, and unsettling thought for everyone in that room.

"Hey, you're that Keronian that volunteered, aren't you?" a voice called to him from the darkness, snapping the frog from his random thoughts. Giroro searched for the direction the voice came from, finally settling his eyes on the only Galean gladiator he had seen before, sitting directly across from him, chained to his bench. "My name's Claudius."

"Giroro." He huffed. Making friends right before a death match wasn't exactly the best of ideas, but the conversation would be a nice change of thought.

"So..why did you do it? Debt? Glory? Or are you suicidal?" The Galean pressed, seeming genuinely interested, a pleasant change from all the other contestants whom seemed disgusted at the Keronian's presence.

"Love." Giroro said nonchalantly. There was no point in trying to hide any of his feelings to anyone right now. This man before him would most likely be dead before the day ended. It was pointless to lie about trivial things.

"Ah, then we've got something in common. You see, I sold myself to the gladiatorial school to support my wife and child. So, I did it for love too. Most of these people are criminals, or POW's, but not us! Huh, what are the odds?"

This Galean seemed too relaxed for someone about to face death, it was almost…unnerving. But seriously? Selling your freedom for money? That was just reckless. "Ever heard of a job?" the corporal's words were almost cynical, but it was hard to be as relaxed as this Claudius was. Sure, Giroro loved the thrill of battle, but the constant stress of worrying where Natsumi might be, or what her condition was put a continuous strain on his emotions, making his current actions seem more loathing than they should be.

"Well I flunked out of school, and they kicked me out of the military so…this is my job. I've already been here for two years. After I finish this last campaign, I'll have enough money to send my kid to college. It'll be great." Despite Giroro's cynicism, Claudius' cheerful demeanor didn't waver.

Although Giroro had opened him mouth to retort, nothing seemed to come out. How could you ridicule a poor man who sold his life to a richer man to secure his child's future? The short answer? You can't.

"Hey, freeman! You're up!" a Galean guard barked from the end of the dark hold. The electric torch he held lit up the small room, and everyone within it quickly covered their eyes to avoid the headache from the sudden brightness. Giving out a small sigh, the small red toad pushed himself from his bench and began to follow the guard out of the underbelly of the Arena.

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><p>The sound produced by the audience seated in the Arena shook the very ground with their cheers as they welcomed their host for the evening, Senator Ari Vallokius, as he made his way to the VIP box at the forefront of the center stage. People flew from their seats attempting to get a better view of the large monitors recording their senator's movements, and as he waved to his people, the men shouted in appraisal and the women swooned over his handsome façade.<p>

He was accompanied by a party of five including: Hadrian Bauxtius, Drusus Pulorius, Cicero, Mira, and Natsumi. The first two sat on either side of Ari, Bauxtius on his left and Pulorius on his right. Just behind and to the right of Ari sat his advisor, the Galean Cicero, whose main job was to maintain a schedule for the senator's public and political appearances. To the left of Cicero, Natsumi knelt on a pillow, being eyecandy to Ari's guests as his newly broken ancilla. Mira stayed in the background only to keep an eye on Natsumi, since this was her first time on a public appearance with Vallokius.

All of them were dressed for the occasion, in traditional Galean robes fitting the time period of the Arena's opening. The attire much resembled the Pekoponian's Ancient Roman era, with linen togas for the men and thin stola's for the two women. Ari's toga bore a purple stripe along its border, demoting his position in a public office. Natsumi wore a woman's stola and palla, with her hair woven into an updo, adorned with a golden hairnet and beads that hung just above her eyes. She sat as a statue, still and without emotion, staring into the void with blank eyes.

When the audience's chants died down, Ari made his way to the front of his box and outstretched his arms to his people as he addressed the crowd with the love and authority suited for a ruler.

"Ladies and gentleman. Citizens and friends from afar, I, Senator Ari Vallokius, welcome you to our humble colony, and our Arena. 500 years ago today our ancestors built this great piece of architectural ingenuity to serve as a symbol of hope to the disheartened citizens of this city after the tragedy that befell upon our mother planet, with the decent of the Great Comet. Here, on the 500th anniversary of this coliseum's opening, it will still serve its same purpose as a shining beacon of light in world filled with darkness. As you are entertained today, let us not forget our ancestor's struggles, for the blood they shed to secure our futures are repaid today with the blood of these men, these warriors, these…gladiators.

So, in the spirit of our forefather's I say to you, the people of Cassidia…Let the games begin!"

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><p><em><strong>So…I'm back. Did you miss me? XD Yeah, I know I took a loooong vacation, but it was well needed to be able to produce this chapter. After my last chapter, I had the worst writer's block ever. I knew how my story was going to play out, but not how to write it down, and truth be told, a part of me didn't want to. To be honest, I've never finished a fan fiction, and the pressure started to build. I never expected so many people to like my story, and when they did, I felt more and more obligated to see this to the end, but my unwillingness to finish it left me torn. So torn, that I could not look at my story or even log into for months. But me being back means that I finally made up my mind. I need to finish it. Not just for you, the readers, but for me as well. With that said, we're coming to the climax, but the story is still a while from being over. School is starting back soon, so I don't know what my time schedule is going to be for writing, but as long as I have people who are still interested in this story, I'll continue to write it :). <strong>_

_**In conclusion, thanks for supporting me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. As always, review!**_

_**tl;dr: I'm back, enjoy your damn chapter, lol.**_


	20. The Red Defender

**C****HAPTER**** 20: T****HE**** R****ED**** D****EFENDER**

An eerie silence fell over the mass filling the Arena as one of the portcullises leading to the center stage slid open, the latticed metal rolling upwards into the ceiling above. The stillness surrounding the people was unnerving, as the air was filled with the anticipation of seeing the first gladiator make their way to the ring. The pink hard light bridge flickered on, closing the gap between the open gateway and the large cylindrical stage where the action would soon take place. Blood throbbed in the people's ears as their hearts pounded with excitement of which monster of an alien would be first to shed their blood in the name of entertainment and ceremony. As the warrior took his first steps into the sight of the crowd, their hearts sunk, and laughter soon took place of their enthusiasm. For a small red toad had revealed himself, striding along the bridge of light as he stared at the battlefield, his heart and mind set on the challenge ahead.

"Ancilla, umor." Ari ordered sternly in his native tongue, watching the Keronian enter the ring. _"Gladiators are sure getting smaller,"_ he huffed inwardly, tapping his nails impatiently on the arm of his metal throne. The crowd didn't seem to like him, which wasn't exactly a good response for a first fight. No matter, the sand would drink his blood soon enough, and the crowd's thirst would be sated.

Natsumi rose from her cushion with the grace and attentiveness of a wild gazelle in the line of danger. Her heart pounded as she scurried over to the wine (or, what she assumed to be wine) bottle, pouring the teal liquid into a horn-shaped glass. The liquid fizzed and hissed as it sloshed into the sides of the container, angered that this woman had disturbed it from its still slumber. As she carried the glass to her haeres, a glint of red from one of the monitors caught her eye.

Her heart stopped and her body froze in terror of the image. The conical glass slipped from her hands, shattering onto the ground, its acidic contents pooling under her trembling feet. Her whole body shook and her skin turned pale, as if she had seen a ghost, _"That little red body…that crimson hat…that facial scar…it can't be…" _Natsumi clenched her head in pain and she shut her eyes; her headdress jangled as her head shook violently, attempting to rid the image from her mind. _"No, he's dead…he's dead!"_

Sensing the danger, Mira leaped into action, wrapping her arms around the convulsing girl and jerking her out of the VIP box, and out of Ari's sight. Vallokius' face plates twitched in irritation as he stared at the broken glass, feeling humiliated as his guests watched his new ancilla being dragged from the room. "Cicero!" he shouted, causing the young advisor to jump out of his seat at the sound and clutch his holopad to his chest.

"Ri-right…" the Galean trembled as he stepped to the front of the box, his creaky boyish voice curling in the tongue of his people, "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your first warrior…" the young consultant looked down at his holopad, scouring the text for the participant's name, "_What kind of name is that? It's so…corny," _he thought as he cleared his voice, "The Red Defender!"

The crowd busted out in laughter once more as the cameras zoomed into the blushing Keronian's face. It really was a corny name, but true to his goal…and he liked it…so there!

"Don't get too upset at her, Senator. Women are weak and faint of heart. The warrior probably scared her," Hadrian Bauxtius whispered to his agitated host. His wrinkled skin molded into a smirk behind his elderly face plates as attempted to calm the hotheaded politician. The angered Galean didn't respond, but just dug his fingers into the arm of the chair, scratching the metal and causing a horrible screeching sound that seemed to block out the laughter of the audience in his mind. It was as if they were laughing at him and his useless ancilla. It was pathetic really, how feeble she was, breaking down at the most insignificant of things. How humiliating.

"Besides, here comes your champion." Drusus Pulorius chimed in.

Those words seemed to comfort Ari, if only enough to stop him from completely ruining the side of the chair. His inverted eyes focused on the open portcullis, watching the frog's soon-to-be opponent enter the Arena's line of sight.

He was a monster of a Galean, standing taller than Ari, whom was already perceived to be taller than the average Galean. His blue-gray body swelled with muscle and his skin's micro-scales glistened as the sweat dripped down his chiseled alien body under the intensity of the coliseum's lights. His wore little armor, only consisting of some shoulder pauldrons, gauntlets, and boots, and what skin was revealed was covered in raised scars. Although his face was no exception, he bore the sweetest expression, which wooed the hearts of the women spectators. The armor he wore was navy blue, and constructed from a metal called neo-titanium, which (as it sounds) is stronger than normal titanium, and nearly impossible to find anywhere outside of the Kappa space nebula.

He was Vallokius' personal gladiator, meaning that the senator had paid for his training, food, and housing at Pulorius' gladiatorial school, and in return part of his winnings came back to him for his sponsorship. The crowd roared in ecstasy at the sight of this Arena champion, well known and loved for his achievements on the sand.

Once again Cicero stepped forward and cleared his throat, though this time he didn't need to search his holopad for a name, "Ladies and gentlemen, now coming center stage: Claudius the Giant!"

"_Claudius…"_ Giroro spun around to face his opponent, the kind-hearted Galean whom he had just met in the chasms not even ten minutes ago. Shock and hesitance paralyzed his features, and he watched the gentle giant grow closer. He didn't want to kill this man, he was too…nice. Give him a Hayg, or a Drura, or any monstrous, naturally bloodthirsty creature, but not this man.

"Fate can be a cruel mistress, can't she, Giroro?" Claudius smiled softly as a pillar holding two beam sabers rose between them. He took one for himself, and threw the other to his opponent, that eerily kind smile never leaving his face. He then turned to Senator Vallokius' and saluted him with his sword, a fuchsia beam extending from its white hilt. "Don't let me down, ok?"

"Wait, Claudius! I don't want to fi—"

"Begin!" Cicero shouted, causing the crowd to uproar in cheers that drowned out Giroro's words.

Claudius sprung into action, gripping tightly to his beam saber as he dashed towards the small frog, an arc of light following his movements as he slashed towards his opponent's head. Giroro had just enough time to duck and roll out of Claudius' way, the stench of burnt cotton from his singed hat enough of a reminder of how close of a call that was. _"He's fast and he's aiming to kill. It can't be helped." _Giving out a small sigh, he pressed the button on his saber, watching the dark pink plasma flicker in front of his face.

His eyes narrowed as his combat mode set in, his surroundings fading out as he focused on his only target. Giving out a bloodcurdling war cry, the Keronian solider darted into the air, clutching his blade with two hands as he furiously sliced the air in a downward stroke. Sparks flew as their blades crashed, and a vicious power struggle between the two warriors ensued. What Giroro's lacked in size and strength he made up for it with agility and conviction in battle. The only thing he was missing was his vast array of weaponry he was usually able to summon to assist him, but even that wouldn't have been of much help in this strictly melee battle. It was clear to him that he had the disadvantage, specializing in long range and guerrilla tactics to win. Even his reason for fighting didn't help him, as Claudius' reason was just as righteous. Dororo was the swordsman, not Giroro, and as the fight went on, it began to show.

His moves were growing elongated, he noticed himself leaving more and more openings, and there were too many close calls. The crowd's appetite for blood grew stronger, their cheers louder and more serious as they wished for the death of the corporal. His body was tiring. Breathing became more of a job as his heart grew heavy with doubt. To make matters worse, his left shoulder was beginning to hurt again. He wouldn't last much longer at this pace.

"_Concentrate, damnit. Concentrate!" _He seethed inwardly as he clashed his blade against his opponent's, the plasma glistening between them. Letting out vicious cry, he put all of his strength into one blow, raising it over his head for the increased momentum, and swung it down. However, Claudius reacted too quickly and blocked Giroro's attack with one of his own in the opposite direction, which sent the corporal's saber flying from his hand. Seizing the opportunity, he sent a swift kick to the frog's small chest, and the toad lurched backwards from the blow, landing crudely onto the hard sand.

The audience grew silence as the gladiator fell, their eyes peeled on his immobile form.

"Get up you idiot!" Jeroro yelled from bleachers, "I didn't scrub your blood out of my bed sheets just to watch you die on the first fight!" he raved, waving his cane towards Giroro's unconscious figure.

_It was dark inside Giroro's mind. Pain swirled in his chest and his head throbbed from hitting the ground. However, he couldn't hear the spectator's collective gasps, or taste the sand covering his face, or even feel the heat of Claudius' blade as it grew closer. The only thing he could see was Natsumi's gentle face, like a mirage plaguing his thoughts, and the out of place scent of sweet potatoes and firewood. Slowly, his love reached outward and placed her warm hands on his chest, dissolving the pain immediately. She stared down at him for a moment, a soft smile gracing her rosy features before she began to fade, like the illusion she was, out of Giroro's sight. _

"Natsumi!" Giroro shouted as his eyes shot open, the sight of the fuchsia plasma filling his view. He quickly pushed himself onto one hand, kicking his legs up and swatting Claudius' saber out of his hand with his foot. He then grabbed the sword and sprung forward, slicing the back of his opponent's leg and jumping onto his back as he fell to one knee.

"Stop!" Ari yelled as he stood from his chair and walked towards the front of his box, "I declare the winner of this fight to be the newcomer, The Red Defender. Now, people of Cassidia, what fate shall behold the loser?"

"Lugula, lugula!" They chanted. The bloodlust was clear in their tone as they placed their hands over their hearts. They wanted their champion dead, despite this being Claudius' first defeat within the Arena.

"So be it. Gladiator, kill that man!" Vallokius ordered, pointing to his champion. His eyes furrowed in disgust as he stared down at the wounded warrior. _"Humiliated by my ancilla, and now my champion couldn't even take out one little Keronian. What an awful day."_

"What are…you waiting for? Kill me." Claudius groaned, clearly in pain because of his leg.

"I'm not going to kill you just so these people can be entertained." Giroro growled, jumping off the Galean's back.

"This girl…you love, You'd do anything…for her…right? Then…kill me now. You have to. Death…can be the gladiator's only exit."

Giroro stood still for the longest time, staring down at the injured alien. His shaking hands grasped the back of his cauterized leg. His face wrinkled in pain as he patiently waited for his death and all with that damn smile on his face. How could he be still smiling!

"Claudius, answer me this one thing: why do you always smile?"

The Galean laughed as he turned his head towards Giroro, "Why do you always frown?"

With a swift hand, Giroro plunged his saber into Claudius' heart, killing him instantly. As the dead Galean fell onto the ground, blue blood poured from his mouth, seeping into the golden sand. Giroro hung his head as the crowd cheered, throwing his saber on the ground and beginning the walk back into the chasms of the Arena.

"_Touché."_

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><p><em><strong>Poor Claudius. T_T He was a good guy. <strong>_

_**So I've been thinking. I know I have quite a few fans, and I'm certain that at least a few of you have deviantart accounts…so…**_

_**I propose we have a contest! A contest? YES! A CONTEST! **_

_**The contest is this:**_

_**Make me a piece of artwork that illustrates any part of the story so far. The style and medium are completely up to you. You can submit them to me through PM's or reviews, just make sure your url works. And don't think you're not good enough to send something in, even if it's stick figures. I'll appreciate it either way. So I know what you're saying: "Ok, LSW, this is great and all, but WHAT'S TEH PRIZE?!1"**_

_**The Prize? Oh, I don't know...how about your own OC competing against Giroro in their own chapter!? Sounds pretty sweet, huh? ^_^ **_

_**So send me your arts! **_

_**There is no timeline, persay. Of course, the sooner the better, but I still have a few chapters to go before this "oc prize chapter" even happens. So...I don't know, let's say...a week or two, possibly three. Shouldn't be more than that though. So don't feel too rushed. **_

_**The winner is the best one after all...**_

_** Oh, and I've noticed that a few of my reviewers have their pm's blocked. If one of you enters the contest, you're going to have to give me some way of communicating with you, just in case you win. ;)**_

_**Sounds enticing, huh? WELL IT SHOULD! XD**_

_**REVIEW!**_


	21. A Twist Of Fate

**C****HAPTER**** 21: A T****WIST ****OF**** F****ATE**

Up in his VIP box, all havoc had begun in Ari Vallokius' eyes. He had just watched his gladiator defeated by a lowly Keroninan, a Keroninan whom before he had taken his champion's life, had screamed the name of his ancilla. It was a deplorable, inconceivable, and a just plain awful turn of events. The Galean's inverted eyes shot daggers at the red gladiator's back as he exited the stage.

"_Natsumi…he said Natsumi before. It couldn't mean that…"_ His nails began to re-dig themselves into the arm of his chair, making his guests fret as they covered their earholes from the sound. "Hadrian, was that one of yours?" Ari spat as he watched the fallen Galean's blood seep into the sand beneath him, staining the golden color with a dark blue.

"No, Senator, I've never seen him before in my life." Bauxtius answered quickly, hastily removing himself from any heinous action Vallokius may have inwardly blamed on him.

"He's a freeman. He volunteered right before the tournament started," Drusus cut in, something he seemed to do a lot, "Poor Claudius, he had a wife and child."

"He was weak, so he died." The senator hissed, watching the gladiator's body being dragged out of the Arena. A small Galean boy followed behind the dead body, sweeping the sand from side to side, covering up the blue blood spilt in his death. "Cicero! I want you to deliver a message to that red gladiator…"

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><p>The audience, although initially filled with hate toward the small newcomer, now cheered wildly for him as he left their view. The sheer fact that someone had beaten Claudius, a Galean who had been undefeated for two years, showed promise in their eyes. As Giroro vanished into the darkness of the Arena's chasms, the crowd chanted "Rana", and although it was typically used as a racist slang towards Keronians, in this context it meant something entirely different.<p>

However, Giroro could not feel victorious yet. Although he had been successful in his first duel, a good man had died in his place. He had taken a father from a child, and a husband from a lover. In the end, what did Claudius' death really account for? The Keronian's head drooped as he passed the chained gladiators, some of which muttered curses towards him, while others offered reluctant praise. It mattered not; their words fell upon deaf ears.

What Giroro truly failed to see, or perhaps what he didn't wish to see, was the harsh reality that Claudius' death had stopped nothing. The tournament would continue as if nothing had happened. More people would fight, and more people would die. There would always be one winner and one loser. The loser's life (if he was still alive when the fight ended) would always be decided by the audience, whom would judge him based upon his performance and their own personal biases. He would either be killed or spared.

Just then, a guard obstructed Giroro's path with a holopad in one hand and a torch in the other. He stared down at the moping frog, clearing his voice to grab his attention, "You can leave, freeman. You're not scheduled for any more fights today. Looks like Fate is on your side right now." He huffed, walking off after delivering the message. Unlike regular tournaments, there was no winner or loser's bracket in the Arena. If the loser was spared he may or may not fight again, and the same went for the victor. The fights seemed to be chosen at random, but then again, how was he suppose to know how they were hoarded to their deaths?

Entering a dimly lit hallway, just above of the chasms, the little frog slouched down a wall, burying his head into his knees as he tried to hide his shame.

Thwap! Pain shot through Giroro's head as clutched the back his skull, jumping up and furiously searching for the culprit to his assault. His eyes finally rested themselves on a small golden toad, a cane cutting frantically through the air as he yelled at his injured counterpart. "You froggin idiot! Don't you ever do something like that again! Laying down in the middle of a battle…" an old voice croaked loudly, lashing his cane outwards again.

This time though, Giroro was able to dodge, "Were you that worried, Jeroro?" he muttered softly, feeling slightly bad that he had caused his caretaker grief.

However, the old toad just laughed, mocking the corporal's words, "Me? Worried? Ha! You almost cost me quite a bit of money, that's all."

Giroro's eyes shot open with realization, "You put bets on me!"

"How else are you going to pay for your room and board, oh and not to mention the repair costs of your Anti-Barrier device?" he raved, "You wouldn't believe the odds they calculated before the fight. Heh! Fate's definitely with us on this one."

There was that word again. Fate. Claudius had mentioned it before they fought. It seemed to be following him everywhere. First Claudius, then the guard, and now Jeroro, why did everyone have to use that word? Giroro had never really been one to believe in an outwardly force that had predetermined your paths in life, choosing to rely instead on good tactics and a spoonful of luck to get him through any situation. However, if there was such a thing as fate, it definitely wasn't on his side.

"Yes, this is just what we need. As long as we stay on her good side…"

Ok, now this was just getting weird, "Why are you talking about fate as if it was alive?" Giroro questioned.

A moment of silence past before Jeroro burst out into a wheezing laughter, "Because it is! F.A.T.E, or "Field Analyzer and Tactical Evaluator" is the name of the AI that runs the Arena. She is the one that arranges all the fights, choosing gladiators by their skill, popularity, and the crowd's bloodlust at the time. It is her who matches the fighters, and ultimately who chooses who will fight Ragnarök in the end. To win the tournament, you'll have to "get in her good graces". Of course she's a computer, so chocolates and flowers aren't going to cut it…"

An AI? So some artificial intelligence was the one responsible for matching Claudius and him. Figures.

"How do you know so much about this AI?" the corporal questioned. If it was a computer that was responsible for all the matchings, then perhaps he could use that to his advantage, hastening his rise to the top. The tournament _was_ a four day long event, and he still hadn't even seen Natsumi.

Jeroro coughed as he cleared his wheezing throat, his lungs tired from laughing so hard, "Oh, that's an easy one. I helped build her."

Once again, shock seemed to overtake Giroro's expression, his voice echoing down the hall as he ejected his thoughts, "You what!?"

"It's a long story, I'll tell you later. For now, let's just go home. These old bones aren't what they used to be." Jeroro yawned as he stretched his arms, a faint crackling sound following his body's motions.

As the two turned to leave, they were approached by a young Galean, who looked as if he was in his mid twenties. His head crests weren't fully grown, and his facial plates looked smooth, not a chip or scrap on them. He was also rather small, around 5 feet 4 inches, which was the shortest either of the Keronians had seen an adult Galean. He was panting as he clutched his holopad to his chest, and it was obvious he had ran to get there. The two toads watched in silence as the man gathered his thoughts, straightening his back with authority as he cleared his creaky throat, "You're the Red Defender, correct?" Cicero asked, glancing down at his pad to double check.

"_What a lame name…" _Jeroro sighed inwardly, watching the red solider straighten up with confidence as he was addressed.

"I have a message from Senator Ari Vallokius. For your outstanding performance in battle, the senator would like to invite you to dinner at his manor tonight."

"To..dinner?!" Giroro gasped, his eyes widening as he quickly gathered his thoughts. This could be his chance. If this Ari Vallokius really did have Natsumi, then he would finally be able to rescue her! His heart pounded as his grasped onto his belt buckle, feeling the image from within in sear into his mind.

A smirk crawled up Jeroro's wrinkled face, his white whiskers twitching in delight, _"Heh, Fate really is on our side…"_

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><p><em><strong>Finally done! Ugh…this chapter took too long for how short it is. I kept getting distracted with Minecraft, lol. Somehow time always goes faster when I'm punching trees. Anyways… I'm fairly satisfied with this chapter. Perhaps soon we will know more about Jeroro's past. <strong>_

_**Also, I've already received one submission for my contest. ^_^ So happy.**_

_**I'm going to be a little lonely this week though. My bf took off on a vacation for a week, so I'm home alone! Oh well, more time to write I guess. **_

_**PS: New favorite song: "Inner Universe" It's the Ghost in the Shell theme. All my loves!**_

_**Review!**_


	22. Red Rum

**C****HAPTER**** 22: R****ED**** R****UM**

The ride to the Vallokius manor was long and quiet. Silhouettes of trees flashed by the tinted windows of the hovercar Giroro currently occupied, their shadows darkening the grim expression on his face. After the tournament ended for the day, Cicero had arranged a ride for the corporal to use to shuttle him to the far off manor. He had past nothing but trees for what felt like hours, and the silence of the cab driver only left Giroro to dwell inside his mind, Jeroro's parting words echoing in his head like a voice calling from a precipitous ravine.

_As Giroro stepped into yellow taxi cab, a small golden hand reached out for the door, preventing it from being closed. Two yellow legs hobbled inside the passenger's sight, his wooden cane clanging against the ground with every slow step._

"_Now listen, and listen closely, kid," Jeroro started out, his tone heavy with _sincerity,_ "This isn't just some politician's house you're going to. This is Ari Vallokius. He's a powerful war hero that's well respected by all the people of Cassidia. I know you suspect your girlfriend to be there, but you can't let your stubbornness get the better of you. Patience is the best strategy in a war."_

_Giroro huffed, pulling on the restrained door, "I know…"_

"_One more thing," Jeroro started, tugging back on the door, "Don't do anything reckless."_

"_I know…" he asserted, attempting to close the door again._

_Another tug, "One more thing…"_

"_What? You crazy old man!" Giroro hissed. _

"_Bring me leftovers." A smile parted the old frog's wrinkles as he let go of the door, and gave a small wave to the departing solider._

They had already entered the gates to the manor's grounds, but yet they were still surrounded by trees. Even the cab driver seemed to be getting uneasy as he double checked his navigational device. How much land did this guy own? Another ten minutes past before the tree line finally broke and the large lawn leading to the manor was within sight, causing both Giroro and the cab driver to exhale in relief that they didn't get lost in that expansive forest. Giroro's eyes widened as they locked onto the impressive structure that lay before him, a large, Edo-style mansion, which felt eerily similar to the Sergeant's shogun castle that had nearly destroyed Kyoto's Gundam factory _(Narrator Note: Episode 59, "The House That Trash Built")_. Hopefully this one didn't move.

As Giroro hopped out of the cab, he was greeted by the same man who had invited him here, that young Galean, Cicero. The quirky advisor quickly descended the stairs of the large manor, paying for the expensive cab fare as he smiled down at the short Keronian. After the cab took off, he extended his tri-fingered hand in a friendly gesture, his other hand clutching his holopad to his chest, just like the first time they met.

"M-my name is Cicero. I'm Senator Vallokius' advisor." Cicero said quickly, stumbling over his words as he bent down to shake hands with the Keronian. After the gesture was complete, he straightened himself back up and returned his hand to his chest to clutch onto his precious holopad. The way he held onto device made it look as if it was his child, holding it tightly and tenderly to his chest. "T-this way please." The Galean stuttered as he led Giroro into the large house.

To put it plainly, Cicero was a coward. Anything involving fighting frightened him, which was why when he was 18, and had to serve his mandatory two year service period in the military, Cicero had chosen the easiest job possible, with the least amount of risk (or hard labor) involved—a position as a desk clerk. Because of this, he found it extremely difficult to commentate the Arena, but had found a way to push past it because it was his job. He was even afraid of Ari, his boss, which wasn't hard to be, but it seemed odd seeing as he worked for him and had to follow him everywhere. He shook too much and trembled over his words. One would have thought the boy was beaten on a regular basis by the way he acted, but this was not the case. He was just simply a giant pansy.

For this reason Ari had chosen him as his attendant, and this reason alone. Sure, he had a good resume, gave excellent advice, and had good organizational skills, but the cornerstone to his employment was his cowardice. He was easily manipulated out of sheer fear of his employer's temper, and it was humorous to watch him squirm. As the two receded further into the manor, a chill grew up Cicero's spine, and his shoulders trembled softly as they neared a large door. With a strained shove, the small Galean pushed the door open, revealing a very lavish, Victorian styled room.

"If you'll wait here, the s-senator will see you shortly." Cicero stuttered as he left the room.

The room has a very European fell to it, which seemed to contrast sharply to the manor's intended theme. The floors were a dark mahogany, with a large Persian rug covering the center. Bookshelves graced the walls, filled to the brim with musty old books about faraway places. There was also a large mirror, from which Giroro could just see the top of his hat, the scorched cotton turning his face sour. There was a white Victorian-style couch and directly across from it were two matching white chairs. It honestly felt like a room that would appear in a Better Homes and Gardens magazine if it was published in 1802. _(Narrator Note: Not that Giroro knew anything about interior design…)_. But the key to this room's extravagant quality was the roaring fireplace centered in the middle of the far wall. Logs crackled softly as the frog hopped into one of the chairs, his feet dangling off the edge. As his eyes shifted around the room, they landed on a large painting positioned above the mantle. It was of a Galean, who looked to be in his late 50's, dressed in a dark purple tunic with golden embroidery. Something was captivating about his expression though. It was stern, but gentle, and just from the picture Giroro had deduced that this man had been a family man. A small inscription was imprinted into a metal plaque on the frame, but it was too small for him to read. Maybe if he squinted his eyes…

"The painting is of my grandfather, Søren Vallokius. I never met him." A voice called from behind him. Giroro's body spun around, his muscles tensing from the alien's sudden presence. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." The corporal's eyes took a quick once over of the Galean's figure. He was dressed in a simple black, Chinese-style shirt and pants. On the collar of his shirt was a small pin made out of neo-titanium, which bore the crest of Galea, two curved swords crossing and a comet in the background. He strode towards the white velvet couch, a sense of purpose and authority evident in his step, and took a seat, his face plates parting as a soft smile graced his lips. "My name is Ari Vallokius. You killed my champion."

Giroro's heart pounded at those words, watching as his host's inverted eyes bore themselves down his skull. Was this the reason for his presence? To avenge the death of his champion, Claudius? He hadn't even determined if Natsumi really was here, and the tension was already thick with blood. It stayed this way for only a minute though, the atmosphere eased as a small chuckle filled the air.

"Don't look so coy. I'm not angry. No, in fact I'm quite impressed. Where did you receive your training, gladiator?"Ari questioned, his smile turning more devilish as he watched the Keronian squirm in his seat.

"Uh…" was the first sound Giroro could make. He obviously couldn't say the Keron Army; that would rouse too much suspicion. Or could he? The pressure for an answer was making his head hurt as he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "Jeroro! He's my…uh…uncle. Yeah."

Ari's voice was calm and sincere as he answered, "Oh, it's nice that you have a family member that cares so much about you. I…wasn't as blessed. I didn't know my father, and my mother was a whore." There was a long pause before he began to speak again, "We lived in the slums on Galea. Every day, when I came home from school, I would look at the doorknob before I entered. If there was a ribbon tied around the handle, I would wait outside until her...business was done. I remember one time I waited all night. The only thing I had to eat were a few crackers left over in my lunchbox. But, just look at me now? Every night I curl into a warm bed after feasting on a large meal. I guess what I'm trying to say is that…people that say their lives were chosen for them either by fate, by their god, or by their family…those are the weak people in this world. Anyone can do anything they set their mind to; they just have to be willing to do what's necessary to get there. I'm sorry; I don't know what came over me. I just got all preachy, didn't I?" Ari laughed, that stupid grin still contorting his face. What he left out was that during his army years his grandfather (whom he never met) had died, leaving him nearly 2000 acres of land. One could call it luck, but Ari never saw it that way. He believed it as penance from an old man for leaving a child in a dark world.

Giroro was speechless. What could someone really say after that? This conversation was becoming more and more aggravating, and he _still_ had no indication of Natsumi's presence within the manor. It was time to become more assertive. "What about your slaves? They didn't choose this life." He hinted, hoping Natsumi's name would come up in his host's response.

"Sure, not initially, but they accept their current place because they are weak. And that weakness is the reason they are not free."

That wasn't the answer he wanted. This guy had strange morals, but he didn't seem like a cruel person. Could this really be the monster who took his love? He seemed too...nice. His face bore only the softest expressions and he seemed genuinely sincere as he preached about hoping to inspire the best out of his people in order to absolve the weakness in their hearts. Needless to say, Giroro was beginning to have his doubts. A small tapping on the large door interrupted the frog's thoughts as he turned his attention to the direction of the sound, his eyes resting on a beautiful alien woman. Her skin was a silky mint green and her long, extravagant features only accentuated her hourglass form as she strode towards the two men. The thin pink nagajuban she wore revealed too much for Giroro as he turned his head away, his face flushing from the sight. As she walked, the slave collar jangled around her neck, and her lekku swished with the motion of her hips.

"My Haeres, dinner is almost ready." The Cytherian smiled as she stopped before the two men.

"Thank you, Mira." Ari muttered as he waved her away, watching her saunter out of the room, "Oh, and have my Ancilla bring us drinks," he added, hiding his devious smirk behind a composed façade.

* * *

><p>In another room in the Vallokius manor, Natsumi sat on a satin pillow, like a doll, lost in her thoughts. After the events that had occurred at the Arena her mind had been a tempest of uncertainties with little answers to alleviate the turmoil she felt inside.<p>

Could Giroro really be alive? Could that Reaper had lied to her about his death? Was he out there, looking for her right now? The questions swirled through the young woman's mind, causing her to clamp her head in pain from the unnerving thoughts. No, he couldn't be. If he was alive, he wouldn't have been in some fighting contest, no, he would have been searching for her! The best conclusion to her delusion was that she was losing her mind. It seemed only fitting giving the circumstances. But he had looked so real…

Water droplets dripped onto her tanned hands, the liquid pooling into the cups of her palms. No…she couldn't start crying now. Haeres didn't like it when she cried…

"Ancilla, Haeres wants you to bring his guest and him drinks." A female voice called softly from the distance. Like a marionette she was pulled to her feet by those words, grabbing a tray and beginning the journey down the hall, eager to do the bidding of her master.

The best thing that she could have done would have been to push Giroro from her mind entirely, completely abandon hope, and accept life as a servant, which up until earlier today she had been doing just fine. But with that image plastered in her mind, it seemed as if her whole world was being turned on its head again. The life she was starting to grow accustomed to now seemed so wrong, and the hope that had faded was starting to flicker once more. It made her nauseous and her head pounded with the stress brought on by these thoughts. If only they would disappear…

As she turned the corner, and entered the Victorian-themed room, her eyes set themselves on her master's guest and the déjà vu ensued. Her chest clamped up, and her heart rate increased drastically as she fell to her knees, sending the metal tray (and the liquor it was carrying) flying. Her eyes widened and her fingers knotted themselves in her fiery red hair, her nails digging themselves into her scalp. Tears streamed down her hot cheeks as she gasped for air, her anxiety attack restricting her airways.

"Na-Natsumi!" the red frog yelled, the shock captivating his face. As Giroro leaped upwards in his chair, ready to dash towards his princess, Ari obstructed his path, stepping between the corporal and his frenzied love.

A wide grin grew onto the Galean's face, his shark-like teeth gleaming in the moody lighting, "So, it wasn't just a coincidence that you said my Ancilla's name. Who are you, really?" he sneered, his expression growing more sadistic by the second.

Why was he talking to her? He was a hallucination, wasn't he? Or was this real? "G-G-Giroro…" Natsumi choked, the words burning her throat like bile. It had to be real; Haeres was talking to him too. He was alive! He was going to save her!

"Giroro? So that's your name…"

The corporal's eyes burned with fury as he stared at the obstacle in his path, snarling low, animalistic growls. His knuckles turned white as he tightened his fists and his shoulders shook with rage. So this was the monster that was holding his Natsumi. He would die.

Just then, a concerned guard entered the doorway, "Senator, are you ok? I heard a loud noise and..."

Now was his chance. The corporal leaped into action, springing from the chair and dashing past the towering alien straight into the guard, whom he quickly disarmed and delivered a sharp elbow to the throat. Gurgling sounds churned from the injured sentry as he crashed onto the ground, clutching onto his collapsed windpipe. Giroro aimed the pistol he had confiscated at his target, the unarmed senator, and pulled the trigger.

In the fastest reaction the solider had ever seen, Ari kicked up the metal tray which deflected the laser shot. He then charged the Keronian, and grabbed onto the top of his laser pistol, stripping the weapon down to pieces. When Giroro pulled the trigger again, he was left with nothing but the grip in his hands. As the warrior looked down at his disassembled weapon, his eyes quivered in fear of his opponent's skills. He had never seen a gun stripped down that fast by anyone. His hesitance left just enough of an opening, which Ari eagerly exploited, as he sent a devastating backswing to the small frog's body, knocking him away from the panicked girl.

Giroro skidded to a stop just before the fireplace, the flames silhouetting his form, "What have you done to her!?" Giroro yelled, tossing the useless pistol to the side.

Ari laughed, his serrated teeth grinning as his eyes narrowed in bloodlust, "Take her from me, if you think you can…" he dared, yearning for a fight. This had been the man that had killed his champion. It was time to see what he was made of.

"You bastard!" the corporal roared as he leaped toward his target, and delivered a powerful blow to Ari's face plate. In all reality, that punch did more damage to Giroro than it did to its receiver…they didn't call them face plates for nothing. The frog ground his teeth to hide the pain as he went for a second attack, this time aiming for his exposed throat. However, Ari retaliated by wrapping his large hand all the way around the small Keronian's face, restraining his movements. Giving a devilish smirk, he forced his attacker into the mirror hanging on the wall, the sliver glass shattering under the pressure of Giroro's skull.

Red blood trailed down the walls as Ari grounded his victim's face into the fractured glass, mixing into the pool of alcohol at their feet. Giroro screamed out in pain as a shard embedded itself in his left shoulder, the same one he had been shot in on the Reaper's ship. It always seemed to be that shoulder that was the target for punishment...

"Is that all?! Is this your limit?!" Ari yelled, his fingers wrapping themselves around the frog's tiny throat, his talons threatening to pierce the soft flesh, "How disappointing..."

In a panicked haste, Giroro franticly grabbed onto a shard from the mirror, breaking it off, and plunged it directly into the arm that was grasping his throat. Ari yelped in pain, his arm reflexively recoiling as the bleeding Keronian hit the ground. Sneering, the Galean jerked the shard from his forearm, and wielding it like a blade, looked towards the panting solider.

"No, wait please!" Natsumi yelled, the first real words she had actually been able to produce, "Don't kill him...please..." she whimpered, her hand outstretched towards her fallen toad.

And then something amazing happened...Ari backed down. He threw the shard across the room and dropped down to one knee, putting his mouth very close to the Keronian's head, "When you killed my champion, I thought there might be something more to you, but it seems I was wrong. You want your precious Natsumi back so bad? Prove me wrong. Win this tournament, and claim the prize. Then, when you come to spend your day with me, we'll have a real fight. If by some chance you best me, then I'll give her back to you. However, if I win, I'm going to kill you. Well then, do you accept?"

Giroro nodded weakly.

"Good." Ari said, raising himself upright, "Cicero!" Astonishingly, at the sound of his boss's voice, the trembling Galean revealed himself, who had been hiding just outside the room for most of the fight. His holopad covered his head in fear as he reluctantly entered the bloodied room, his knees knocking together. "Get this _rana_ of my sight." He ordered, marching out of the room as he went to treat his wound.

"M-m-me?" the young Galean quivered.

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><p><em><strong>Eh meh god! So loooog. While I was writing this, half of my brain was saying, "Turn it into two chapters," and the other, less smart part was like, "Nah, just make one big one!" You can guess my choice… T_T<strong>_

_**Sometimes I wonder if I enjoy kicking the shit out of Giroro...  
><strong>_

_**Oh, and I totally ripped that disassembling gun move from a videogame, lol. You get brownie points if you can tell me which game it was.  
><strong>_

_**If you need a good laugh after that depressing chapter, look up "my immortal zenia wulfe" on YouTube. There should be a playlist...  
><strong>_

_**You have to at least watch up to chapter four to get a good laugh.**_


	23. Salt in the Wound

**C****HAPTER**** 23: S****ALT ****IN THE**** W****OUND**

_Pain swirled through Giroro's body as he lay bleeding on Vallokius' expensive floor. His crimson blood dripped into the cracks of the mahogany wood, mixing into the teal colored liquor that had been spilt minutes ago. It had created an odd, almost mauve colored liquid, which seeped into the Persian rug as it trailed downwards. It would no doubt stain the thousand dollar carpet, a small victory, but one which the defeated toad was willing to accept at this point. The pool of alcohol he laid in bit at his wounds as the repurposed beverage cleansed his numerous cuts. Natsumi's tears weren't helping either, their salty contents stinging his face as she wept over his broken form._

_"Hey…" Giroro muttered, reaching his hand out and resting it gently on his love's wet cheek; a gesture which normally caused his face to flush, but his brain didn't have enough blood to waste on petty bodily responses, "Soldiers don't cry." He said as he gave her a small smile and watched her return the gesture. Drying her tears, Natsumi yanked Giroro into a tight hug and buried her face into the top of his hat. After initially biting his lip to hide the pain of being jerked up, the frog relaxed into her warm embrace and, if for only a moment, the outside world seemed to disappear, with only him and Natsumi left at its core._

_He finally understood why Claudius always smiled. A smile was the most precious gift a person could give. For a man that owned nothing, not even his life, it was the only thing he could give that was truly his own. "Now listen, I can't get you out of this place tonight. You can hold out for a few more days, right?" the injured officer groaned. She nodded softly. "That's my girl."_

Oh how she had screamed when they dragged his body away, two guards having to restrain her from running after him. Her voice still echoed in the corporal's mind as he recalled the recent memory, slouched against an alley wall. Forcibly removed from the senator's home, Giroro had been beaten, shoved into a car trunk, driven and then dumped into a dirty alley way somewhere downtown. The whole gesture had seemed too vicious to Cicero, who had trembled in the passenger's seat the entire time, but Vallokius' bodyguards had insisted it was best course of action. Giroro had, after all, killed one of them in his and Ari's fight.

The savaged corporal looked over at a nearby dumpster, remarkably clean given its surroundings, and used the gleaming reflection to examine his injuries. His face had taken the brunt of the damage; numerous lacerations shone on the smooth, red skin. A deep furrow was smarting above his left eye, the same eye which bore his scar. The dried blood from the cut made it look as though he had an eyebrow, which he found mildly humorous under the circumstances. The majority of the wounds were situated on the left half of his body (the side that had been crushed into the glass mirror) and, fortunately, were only mild nicks and scraps, complimented by the purple hue of bruised flesh. The only other somewhat serious injury Giroro had sustained was his shoulder. It just didn't feel…right. The swollen limb was incredibly painful to move, but it wasn't dislocated or broken from what he could tell. If only he had eyes in the back of his head…

Removing his precious belt, he strapped his wounded arm to his body and proceeded to stand. His legs worked fine, and he had sustained no damage to them, something he was extremely grateful for. Taking a sigh of relief he stepped out into the busy streets, a trail of blood trickling behind his every step.

It didn't take Giroro too long to find Jeroro's shop. The people whom he had asked for directions had seemed almost too eager to point the way, frightened by the Keronian's ragged appearance. He eventually arrived at the homey electronics store and pushed the door open with his right hand, the bloodied member leaving an unappealing red smear on the glass.

"We're closed!" the elderly owner croaked as he hobbled his way out from a back room. At the site of the bloodied toad the old frog sighed, shaking his head as he slowly closed the distance between them.

"I know what you're going to say," Giroro grumbled under his breath, preparing himself for the lecture he knew was coming, "I was stubborn, reckless, and I didn't listen. I should have been more pati—"

THWAP!

Before Giroro had a chance finish his speech a cane had already assaulted him. Jeroro delivered a smarting backswing to side of his visitor's head, "And you didn't bring me leftovers!" the old Keronian grumbled.

The corporal shot him a dirty look, rubbing the fresh injury vigorously with his good arm and concluding that the old fellow had definitely gone senile. No person in their right mind would attack an already wounded person over something so trivial! The tension lasted only a moment though as Jeroro broke it with a small grin. "Let's go get you cleaned up. You're not staining my bed sheets again…" he mocked, grabbing onto Giroro's hat flap and pulling him up the stairs.

It took nearly half an hour for Jeroro to pluck out all the tiny glass fragments embedded under the corporal's flesh. He had used a small field medical kit he had had stuffed in that black hole of his closet, which looked as if it had been through a war or two in its prime. A few of the tools that were rolled within the canvas kit had begun to rust over with disuse, and some of the unpacked gauze had a yellowish tint. Jeroro had assured his concerned patient that everything was indeed sterilized, but the mere sight of the cryptic suture set had given him goose bumps.

"Eh, don't worry. I won't be using that," Jeroro had assured him, seeing the corporal eyeing the curved needle and thread. "I'll be using this!" the golden frog whipped a milk-colored tube from his pocket and waved it under the skeptical corporal's nose.

Superglue!? This crazy old man was going to superglue his forehead together?! What was he, a birdhouse?

Jeroro let out a wheezing laugh, seeing the disbelief covering Giroro's face, "What? They didn't teach you basic first aid in training school? Eh, looks like the military is starting to slip…"

Sure, they had taught Giroro how to give an IV and apply a tourniquet, but he had never touched a hobby adhesive in a medical emergency. Hopefully, Keroro didn't know about this technique; knowing his obsession with building Gunpla, he would probably declare the super-glue as a "life-saving material" and order them all to buy some "in case of an emergency."

The adhesive stung only for a moment as the old frog squeezed the milky-white substance over his patient's cut, creating a secure mesh that would hold his red skin together. In addition to not being as painful or annoyingly obvious as stitches, Jeroro also had told him that the chemicals within the liquid reduced scarring. Which was fortunate, he didn't need another scar covering his face.

Finished with all the minor cuts Giroro had acquired, Jeroro moved on to the larger mess at hand—his shoulder. It took only moments for the saavy old fellow to find the issue. He let out a small grunt of disappointment, which only alarmed the wary corporal further as a scalpel flashed into view, flecks of rust gathering on the glistening blade.

"Here, hold this for me, will you?" he chuckled, taunting the frightened solider. Sneering, Giroro snatched away the surgical knife. Old Jeroro found he loved to taunt his young guest, finding the corporal's expressions humorous and filled with life. He rarely ever had guests and had no children of his own. So Jeroro savored the moments he was sharing with the strange red Keronian, even if the enjoyment seemed to be a rather one-sided affair.

Picking up a set of tweezers, he pulled out a triangularly-shaped shard of glass from Giroro's arm. The fragment had lodged itself underneath his shoulder blade, becoming the source of all his discomfort. He yelped involuntarily as it was removed, but after the initial burn, Giroro felt the pain subside. Jeroro was impressed, "You're lucky this little yonker didn't slice through your sub-clavian artery. You would have bled out in minutes."

Counting all his wounds in his journey so far, Giroro had been electrocuted twice, shot in the left shoulder, kicked in the chest, bumped over the head, been shoved into a mirror, and finally had a shard of glass lodged under his shoulder blade. And he still hadn't rescued Natsumi. When he got back to Pekopon he was definitely asking for time off.

"Here, chew on this and go lay down. I don't know how you're planning on competing tomorrow looking like that…" Jeroro began to rant, handing him a thin strip of what looked like tree bark. From Giroro's face it was obvious he had never seen the plant before; however, the old Keronian hadn't let him down yet. Slowly, he put the piece of wood in his mouth and began to chew. Bitterness jolted through his taste buds with every bite and his face puckered at the disgusting herbal substance. It was horrible, simply horrible, but he didn't want to look anymore pathetic than he already was. So he chewed, suppressing the desire to spit the gunk out and brush off his tongue. "That's about the reaction I expected to get," Jeroro wheezed in laughter, "…It's the bark from a Sovee tree. It numbs pain and it'll put you right out. You're going to need your rest if you plan on fighting again."

After managing to swallow the hairy fibers, the bark's effects began to show. A warm, tingling sensation arose from his center, and the world around him seemed to slow. Jeroro's words became nothing but a mish-mash of syllables and Giroro's eyes had never felt so heavy. Slowly, He crawled his way to the couch and forced himself under a blanket, where his eyes slammed shut with the force of a bomb shelter door.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thanks FutileCrux for being my Beta Reader. :)<strong>_

_**Review!**_


	24. Star Crossed

**C****HAPTER**** 24: S****TAR****-C****ROSSED**

Deep within the walls of Senator Vallokius' estate, the injured Galean brooded over the day's horrific events. The lighting in his oriental-themed bedroom was dimmed down, fitting with his moody temperament. He lounged broodingly upon a mountain of pillows, with only his favorite house slave, Mira, to alleviate his chagrin. Ari gritted his teeth as she attended to his bleeding arm and although he appeared calm, a dangerous fire had begun to burn in his heart.

"That damned _Rana_,_" _the senator seethed inwardly. "Rana" was a Galean racist term for a Keronian, or any amphibious alien. Because of their militarist upbringing, many Galeans tended to look down upon the froggy race, seeing them as useless and weak. However the "rana" he faced now, this _Giroro_, had been able to hurt the decorated veteran, forcing his hand into a deal which could deprive him of his most recently acquired treasure should he fail. The idea of failure was not what irritated Ari the most though. No, his warmongering side always welcomed a challenge. What truly had him vexed was the fact that he had come so close to having his Ancilla completely subdued, and now, thanks to this little shit, some of her defiance had reappeared.

He could hear Natsumi yelling down the halls when Cicero had dragged the little cretin from his house. In her rage she had tried to attack a guard, an act that had led to her being confined to her room for the rest of the evening. He was too upset to deal with her defiance at the moment. Ari was apprehensive at the fact that his temper might get the better of him, and he'd inadvertently kill the poor girl instead. Better to keep his Ancilla alive and let her red defender's defeat crush her spirit than to destroy her with his own hand.

Pain surged through his wounded arm as Mira accidentally brushed against the tender skin, recoiling to his chest. "Watch it!" he yelled as he slapped her, and watched her twitch in response. The gesture seemed calm him, if only slightly, her pain easing his wounded pride.

Mira responded well to physical abuse by her Haeres, if that was even possible. She hardly ever flinched away and never vocalized her discomfort. She understood her place better than any other of Ari's servants, something for which he admired her greatly for, so much that sometimes, just sometimes, he felt slightly guilty for hitting her in the first place. This was one of those rare moments.

As the beautiful Cytherian continued to bandage his arm, Ari laid back onto his pillows, a small sigh escaping through his lips as he mustered up the courage to ask the question that had been nagging at him for the past hour, "Mira," he started, staring into her golden orbs, "Do you think me a cruel person?"

Up until recently, Ari never had thought himself as "cruel", but with the current turn of events, that word seemed to hum in his mind. It was true that he loved war, and had a somewhat sadistic personality. However, he did things other might have considered vile because it was merely what the situation required. When he abused his slaves it was because they needed discipline. When he crushed his enemies it was because it was life or death. Even when he was an interrogator in the military, and did unthinkable acts to prisoners of war, he was simply following orders. It was true that he took pleasure in others pain, but he rarely inflicted pain solely for pleasure. Did that still make him cruel?

"No, my Haeres." Mira answered as she tied off the bandage. Her voice was soft as she diligently finished her work, careful not to cause her master further pain.

Ari huffed, the disbelief thick in his response, "Are you just saying that because I'd probably hit you again if you said otherwise?" That was one thing he both hated and loved in his servants; they were quick to falsehood if it would keep them out of trouble. Sure, it showed that they were obedient enough not to disrespect him, but it also revealed just how weak they were, and Ari despised weakness.

A small smile graced the exotic slave as she shook her head, "You act as your emotions guide you to do. There is nothing wrong with that." She answered with a sincere voice. As odd as it might have sounded, Mira truly believed her master was a fair man. Perhaps it was because she had served the Vallokius family since birth, with her mother serving the great General Søren or perhaps there was a more complex reason.

This time the Galean laughed, scoffing gently at her answer. "And you? Do you act on your emotions?" he jested. This was the reason Mira was his favorite. She always knew how to cheer him up. He could be ready to shove someone through a wall and she would prance in, her lekku swaying, and mutter a few simple words that would instantly dissolve his dangerous temper.

Mira face flushed, her teal colored blood turning her cheeks a deep emerald, "I try to."

At the sight of her glowing face, Ari smirked, and tauntingly brushed his hand against her warm cheek, "What are they telling you to do now?"

Mira's heart fluttered as her master's rough palm grazed against her soft skin. Her face turned an even deeper green as she bashfully turned away from Ari's view, trying to regain her composure. It was true, she was in love with Ari Vallokius, an emotion most people would have stayed far from when talking about the hotheaded senator. She had been for years, but she was too cowardly and too obedient to ever show her true face. However, now he was practically ordering her to. She couldn't disobey an order, it wasn't in her nature.

When she had built up enough courage to look back at her Haeres, her expression had completely changed. In the place of her shy exterior was beautifully serene façade, one which oozed with lust and desire. As she leaned closer to him, her succulent breasts settled themselves upon his muscular chest, and she blushed accordingly. Her lips parted as she neared his, breathing warm air down onto her master.

A knock on the door interrupted them. Ari pressed two fingers against her lips and gently pushed her back as he called to the visitor at the door, "Come in."

A trembling hand wrapped itself around the side of the opening door as the cowardly Galean slowly came into view. A path of light from the outside followed his movements when the door swung ajar, silhouetting the shaking advisor who had become frozen just inside the doorway. "Se-senator…" his voice quaked, clutching his beloved holopad tightly to his chest.

"Did you take care of that Rana?" Ari hissed. The sudden inflection of his boss's voice caused Cicero to jump slightly, sending his electronic notepad flying out in front of him.

"Y-yes." The advisor answered as he scrounged around the dim room for his precious gadget.

Ari rolled his eyes, watching the pathetic boy crawling around his room, "And my Ancilla?"

After finally finding it, he jumped back to his feet and scurried back to his original spot in the doorway, "In her-r room."

"Good work, Cicero, you can go home now."

"Th-thank you Senator…" Cicero shook as he scurried down the hallway. The door shut as the cowardly Galean left, sealing the darkness back inside. Ari hesitated a moment as he closed it, the soft movements of Mira behind him distracting his thoughts.

Mira could never be his Ancilla. She was far too important. She was the foundation of the small paradise he had built for himself, maintaining balance in all things Ari was too busy to handle himself. While he had Cicero to handle his occupational obstacles, Ari relied on Mira for all his homely needs. The cooking, the cleaning, even his health were all her duties, and she prided herself in alleviating these chores from her master. If he had chosen her to be his Ancilla, all these duties would have dissolved, breaking the delicate homeostasis he had constructed. Her freedom would also be inevitable, and he was far too selfish to let her go. Besides, Mira didn't want to leave. Their entire relationship was a giant push and pull of need versus desire. Ari needed Mira, and Mira needed Ari to need her.

The senator smirked and turned back to his lovely housemaid, "Now then…about those emotions."

* * *

><p><strong><em>So far I have 6 people that have said they want to enter my contest. Those people are:<em>**

**_sarcasticToad, Scanty-Kneesocks, Heinous966, Zolufangirl17, FutileCrux, and Hazelstiltskin_**

**_If I've missed your name, I'm sorry and let me know in a pm. I've received art from two of these people, obviously you know who you are. No big rush, you have about a week left before I really need to start judging, so you still have time. I'm just informing you of your timeframe. If you have any questions, just pm me. I try to check it every day._**

**_Review!_**

**_Edit 8/19: I added a paragraph to the end of the chapter. xP_**


	25. Sixth Sense

**C****HAPTER**** 25: S****IXTH**** S****ENSE**

When Giroro awoke, he was no longer in Jeroro's home. Instead, he was surrounded by an endless darkness, save for a lone streetlight, which illuminated two occupied park benches. From his position the two occupants' identities were undecipherable and the annoying buzzing from the streetlamp's florescent bulb drowned out their voices. _"I remember this place,"_ Giroro thought to himself as he began to walk towards the two distant beings. He had been here once before, when he had passed out in the old Keronian's shop. Cael I Fera had been there too, informing the confused corporal that this was his subconscious—a dark realm reserved for times there was too much stress on the soldier's body for him to dream properly.

His shoulder throbbed as he neared the two figures. Even in sleep, Giroro couldn't outrun the pain shooting through his arm. He had really done it this time. As he grew closer, their speech became audible, and what sounded like an argument grew between them.

"The only things you should be carrying with you on a battlefield are your gun and your wits." The shorter figure scoffed as he leaned back on the park bench, his four yellow eyes staring at the alien across from him. The voice was Cael's, who laughed when he saw the red Keronian, his incest mandibles twitching in delight.

"No, you're wrong," the other figure asserted. He was much larger than the Reaper and his reptilian body was covered in raised scars which glistened under the lamp's warm light. "Without love there is no point in fighting. That's where a warrior's true strength comes from." The Galean smiled, his expression softening his giant appearance.

"Claudius?" Giroro heart sank. Now there were two people occupying his subconscious, both of which the corporal had killed. The large gladiator just smiled down at tiny frog, his kind expression making Giroro feel even guiltier for killing him.

Why was it always the dead that haunted this realm? Why couldn't he dream of Natsumi sauntering around, teasing him with her beautifully innocent features, and then stroll off into the distance, causing him to chase after her? Sure, those dreams typically ended on a down note, but it was better than his mind being possessed by his victims.

Noticing the stark confusion on the soldier's face, Cael chimed in, his mandibles parting in a teasing smirk, "Oh! Corporal! We were just talking about you. Have you found that girl you were looking for? What was her name again…?"

"…Natsumi." Claudius mumbled. Wait, how did Claudius know Natsumi's name? Giroro had never told him. The only thing he had divulged was that he was fighting for love, something the two warriors had in common. Oh, yeah…this was all in his head.

There was no way of knowing when he would wake from this horrid place. Last time, he smashed the Reaper's head in and Natsumi had materialized. Perhaps that would work again, except now there were two embodiments of his fragile mental state and the pain throbbing through Giroro's arm make him reluctant to have another mash-n-bash session with the captain. As he gently rubbed his wound, he jumped up onto the bench Claudius was seated on and edged over to the side. He would wake up eventually. Everything before that was a waiting game.

"So you found her, didn't you?" the Reaper gibed, "When you saw her, did you remember what I said?"

Before Giroro had blown out the slaver trader's brains, he had asked him to remember what he had said next time he saw Natsumi. But what did Cael want Giroro to remember him saying? Prior to the corporal shooting him, all the Reaper captain had really talked about was his love's location, followed by some disgustingly crude remark about her virginity. That couldn't have been what Cael was referring to though. He must have been recalling an earlier conversation they had, when Giroro was interrogated deep within his ship's hull. Before the captain had left his captive to stew in his humiliation, he had called him an idiot—a true idiot.

"By the expression on your face, I'm guessing you remember. You've let that Pekoponian whore ruin you as a soldier. You could have rescued that little harlot by now, but you're constantly letting your unnatural infatuations interfere." Cael spat, resting his head back onto the park bench. When it came to the topic of interracial couples, the captain was a fundamentalist. He believed that love should only coexist between two people of the same species and anything other was unnatural and wrong. However this was Giroro's mind, so Cael's racism was hardly heard.

Claudius shook his head at the shallow-minded captain, "I said it once and I'll say it again," he sighed, his breath causing Giroro's hat ears to flap in distress, "Love is the reason people fight. His "unnatural" feelings are what make him a soldier. So it's impossible for them to be "interfering". Even you fought for love, Captain—the love of your filthy money." Although the Galean's words were meant to offend his counterpart, the alien's face would not relax from that gentle smile, his cheeks lifting in an almost sarcastic smirk. Claudius then turned his attention towards the small frog seated beside him and all the malice suddenly disappeared from his heart, "What you need to do is surrender yourself to your emotions completely; then you'll be able to find your inner strength."

A burst of laughter shook the air as the Reaper lurched forward, "Is that what you did? Cause it looks like it worked splendidly!" He sneered, his words soaking in sarcasm.

The fallen gladiator's eye twitched as his head clicked towards his rival and his eyes narrowed in contempt, "Oh yeah? Well your blunt logic got your brains blown out! What, did you not think he was going to shoot you after he got what he wanted?"

Cael scoffed, "No, I didn't. He had no reason to."

"No reason!? You kidnapped his love!"

"I told him where to find her!"

"That's not the—"

"SHUT UP!" Giroro yelled. Their bickering was driving him insane. The constant arguing of these two manifestations of his opposing personalities was giving the Keronian a headache, and he massaged his forehead in a desperate attempt to alleviate the stress.

His mind was a battlefield between the two sides, visually represented by the ghosts of Giroro's recent past. Cael represented his inner solider, with all his positive emotions replaced with blunt logic and war tactics. Claudius was his inner lover, preaching about the power of the heart and yearning to be the valiant white knight in any situation.

They both had their strengths and weaknesses. As a soldier, Giroro was vicious and calculating. He could savagely dismember someone with a pen knife, or he could stalk his target for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment for a precise sniper shot to the temple—whichever one got the mission done successfully. He was a perfect solider, obedient, attentive, and ruthless. However, he was too perfect a warrior, and lacked any emotions that would save his sanity. The smell of blood was all he needed to get through the day and anything that threatened his philosophy was just another target for elimination.

Giroro's heart, however, was another story. As a lover, he was sensitive and caring. He would gladly march through hell for his love's wellbeing, or live in silent misery if it meant her happiness. His heart bled romanticism and his soul radiated with poetry. But when came to fighting, his feelings clouded his judgment. He would throw himself into a hail of gunfight to protect his woman, acting as a meat shield for her safety. He was irrational and impulsive, and the simplest words could shatter his willpower.

Either one of these alone was not Giroro. He was both a lover and a fighter, and used his heart to guide his aim. However, these two sides were dangerously unbalanced, each yearning for more pull on his sanity. When his heart pushed the scale, his combat skills slipped and he made careless and life threatening mistakes. When his bloodlust took the field, the outside world would disappear and his inner beast would thrash against its cage.

As each side forced their campaign upon the tiring frog, it began to be more noticeable that he would have to choose one. He could either abandon Natsumi, at least for now, and easily defeat all his opponents as he sank into his inhumanity—or—he could rely completely on his heart to guide his actions, and although Natsumi would have his full attention, he would also run the risk of death within the Arena. The only question left was which he would choose.

Giroro closed his eyes as he leaned back on the bench and thought carefully over his options. Neither was perfect, and each had their faults, but if he kept going like he was, he was sure to be hurt again. His arm was already injured and the left half of his face was lightly swollen. He had never fought such a powerfully race like the Galeans, and could see why the Keronian government was eager to let Galea do as it pleased.

As if a miracle had washed over his turbulent mind, the two bickering aliens suddenly ceased their argument. Giroro peeled open one of his eyes to check the reason for their silence, only to be plunged into further confusion. Claudius and Cael were completely frozen, after if time had stopped in this dark world. Their bodies were positioned as if they were still fighting, and yet their muscles were locked into place. It was strange and slightly frightening, as the nervous soldier scooted away from his frozen neighbor. Suddenly, the light on the streetlamp grew in intensity, whiting out his view. A loud whistling sound pierced his eardrums, causing him to clutch his head in pain. _"What the hell is going on!"_ he mentally seethed as the light grew brighter, bathing this realm in a luminous sea.

* * *

><p><em><strong>So, school started back, finally. Although I can already tell this year is going to be a pain. Too many hard classes all stuck together x_x. This will probably be my schedule from now on, with a lot slower updates because of school. You got your fair share of me churning out chapters, so now it's time for the slow decent XD. <strong>_

_**Oh yeah, I'm still missing art from one person, you know who you are. **_

_**Review!**_


	26. Nature of the Beast

**C****HAPTER**** 26: N****ATURE ****OF THE**** B****EAST**

A loud whistling echoed through Jeroro's small apartment. Steam filled the air and the sweet, earthy smell of clove danced along the vaporous clouds. Giroro's eyes snapped open at the tea kettle's screech and the red Keronian let out a groggy groan as he carefully sat up on the couch. Surprisingly, his wounded arm didn't feel all that bad. The swelling was almost completely gone and he almost had his full range of motion back. Needless to say, the inflamed tissue was still sore to the touch, making the corporal's face sour as the limb throbbed mildly under its tight bandages.

"About froggin' time you woke up." An old voice jibed as Jeroro waddled over to the wounded warrior. His cane banged against the wooden flooring with every limping step and his withered hands shook as his extended a steaming cup to his guest, "Here, drink this."

The solider hesitantly took the warm porcelain mug, its fragrant aroma soothing his pounding head. _"Such a kind gesture"_, Giroro thought as he brought the hot tea to his lips. It was only when the liquid splashed against his taste buds that he realized how misplaced his thoughts were. The horrid beverage made the corporal's face pucker and he coughed harshly in a vain attempt to force down the strikingly bitter brew.

Jeroro burst into a fit of laughter at the site of his visitor's expression. He mockingly wiped an invisible tear from his wrinkled eye, "Ahh, I never get tired of seeing that face." he sighed, attempting to calm his wheezing lungs.

"You old bastard! You've drugged me again, haven't you?!" Giroro seethed as he slammed the cup onto an end table.

The Sovee tree was a very versatile herb. Its husk, or bark-like like exterior contained a similar chemical composition to that of a mild sedative. When chewed, the fibers released this substance, causing its recipient to feel as if they were in a blissfully drunken stupor. The tree's sap, however, produced a different, but equally powerful effect. Although it did not make its consumer tired, it produced an analgesic sensation, which also doubled as an anti-inflammatory. If the bark was strained, the sap could be separated and used in an herbal tea, which had a disgustingly bitter taste.

"Eh?" Jeroro cocked his head to the side was he watched the furious solider, who was squirming on the couch. A gentle smile parted his face, "You'll be fine. What, you still don't trust me?"

Giroro's face scrunched at the elder's words. Sure he trusted him…to a certain extent. The old man _had _saved his life twice. And it was he who pointed the direction to Natsumi's whereabouts. Jeroro had let this stranger into his home, fed him, cared for him, and all for what? Giroro wasn't paying him, well at least not directly; the old geezer had found a way to exploit his success in the Arena by gambling. Grumbling inaudible words under his breath, the discontent solider picked back up the steaming mug and choked down the putrid liquid. It took all Giroro's willpower not to regurgitate the beverage, his stomach heaving in a desperate attempt to purge him of the vile substance.

While Giroro was busy gulping down his medicinal tea, Jeroro was mentally rummaging through the black hole in his closet. He was what someone might have called a hoarder, though one couldn't tell by the tidiness of his small apartment. Everything he hoarded was shoved into a dimensional portal in a suitcase stowed neatly away in his closet, and could be easily retrieved using his hat emblem. When he visualized what he desired, it materialized in his hands. Jeroro concentrated and held out his hands.

Cold metal nipped sharply against his aged skin, a simple armor piece phasing into his grasp. In his hands was a pauldron, fitted for the left shoulder. Jeroro tossed it nonchalantly to Giroro, who caught it and turned the shoulder guard about in his own palms. It was simple, with no striking details or fashionable curves. It was just a plain piece of armor, fitted for a warrior of small stature.

"That should help protect your wound," Jeroro sighed and tiredly inched his way to the couch, "It's not fancy neo-titanium, or whatever they're using these days, but it'll do the job." The old frog croaked as he sat down onto the squishy sofa.

Giroro mumbled a barely audible "thanks" before he strapped it on, the leather straps hiding nicely underneath his navy belt. The armor's smooth exterior reflected the apartment's lights, causing the luminous orbs to dance along it silver coating.

Jeroro groaned as he struggled to stand and his cane shook from the pressure bore down upon it, "Now hurry up. We're going to be late."

* * *

><p>One by one, gladiators fell at Giroro's feet. The crowd rewarded the blood splattered Keronian with cheers of appraisal and shouts of "rana" in an approving tone. His fans still refused to call him "The Red Defender". Jeroro didn't blame them; it <em>was<em> a very corny name. The warrior had already bested three gladiators today, each tasting defeat from the hot plasma blade, much to the spectating senator's disdain. Natsumi wasn't accompanying Ari today, so Giroro had nothing to distract him from his current task.

The audience jumped to their feet as the Keronian's newest opponents stepped onto the sand. Instead of the normal one-on-one battles Giroro had become accustomed to, Fate had paired him with two opponents simultaneously—a Hayg and a Grall. It didn't matter though, they would be defeated soon enough. A weapons pillar rose between the trio and each armed themselves. In addition to the standard saber, Fate has also provided the fighters with a smorgasbord of plasma-infused weapons, including a large heat hawk, duel short swords, and a regular beam saber. The large, crimson Hayg chose the axe, reflecting his terrifying brute force. The Grall chose the duel sabers, matching his unsurpassed agility. Giroro chose the single blade. It was the only one left…and easiest to handle. Each warrior turned and saluted their senator, though none of them did it with sincerity in their hearts. The corporal's eyes burned into his rival's, and received a smug grin from his "gracious" host.

When the match began, the monstrous Hayg charged the small red frog, heat hawk raised high above his head. Animalistic snarls sputtered from his triangular shaped mouth causing a mixture of mucous and spit to drip from his chin. His clawed feet kicked up sand as he rushed his prey, the Arena's harsh lighting glinting off his weapon's handle. Fate was not on the side of the Hayg today, and Giroro needed only moments to devise his strategy.

The war-hardened corporal rolled out of his attacker's path just before the molten blade could braise his flesh. The axe sunk into the ground with a thump, which gave Giroro the moment he needed to fling a handful of sand into the Hayg's grotesque face…and into his windpipe. Tiny granulates forced their way down the large alien's throat, making him cough and wheeze as he tried to breathe from his only respiratory orifice. As his target struggled to reclaim the submerged weapon, the small Keronian had already scurried up the wheezing alien's backside and plunged his fuchsia saber straight through the Hayg's thick neck.

The agile Grall was smarter. Standing off to one side, he watched with hooded eyes as Giroro swiftly dispatched the Hayg. He had figured it was best to let the two red aliens duke it out and then launch his attack when one of them had fallen, which was now. The slender green creature crossed his duel beam sabers and leaped towards his mark, his sensitive eyes narrowing in concentration. His head was already pounding from the coliseum's vivid lighting and the crowd's cheers weren't helping either. Suddenly, everything blanked and he reflexively covered his eyes to shield himself from the blazing white out. It was over in a flash. When the Grall's wide eyes opened, it was only to see the pink streak of plasma sink into his chest. He fell to his knees as he watched Giroro readjust his metal pauldron, the bright lights sparking off its gleaming exterior…as the lights dimmed in his own.

Giroro's victory was achieved, and his spectators awarded him respectfully. However, their praise was not observed by the corporal, who sighed as he wiped the multi-colored blood off his crimson skin. The men he had faced were nothing compared to the many enemies the solider had cut down in his long career. Hell, Claudius was stronger than all the opponents Giroro had fought that day combined. If only Fate hadn't paired the two, perhaps instead he would have received a pat on the back for his accomplishments, instead of the Galean's ghost ravaging his mind. These were the lonely soldier's thoughts as he was swallowed by the underbelly of the Arena.

* * *

><p><em><strong>So if you haven't noticed, I added a new cover for the story. And that lovely gem comes from Scanty-Kneesocks who won the Art Contest! Congratulations! In a few chapters she will receive her prize, so stay tuned to watch (or I guess read) that unfold. <strong>_

_**I almost feel sorry for the no-name Grall and Hayg. Bad evolution, bad! Oh, and did you like that Gundam reference I dropped? Yeah, you did. XP (If you don't know what it was, you need more Gundam in your life.)**_

_**Review!**_


	27. Mourning Glory

**C****HAPTER**** 27: M****OURNING**** G****LORY**

The moon-colony Cassidia could be the most extravagant place in the Kappa space nebula for those who had money. Rich casinos, eccentric clubs, and lavish hotels cluttered the upper skies of the skyscraper based city-planet, awaiting their abuse by the upper class. Hovercrafts filled the night sky and their taillights flashed red streaks by the windows of the gargantuan structures. For the privileged, this was a wonderful place to reside. However, the _true_ residents of Cassidia were not rich.

On the very bottom levels of this heinous planet was where all the true night action took place. The air was thick with smog and the sound of sirens and infants crying blended into the background. Child-sized rats scurried down the dirty alley ways littered with the slumping forms of the poor and hungry. Wary eyes peered around every corner and the steam rising from the ground hid the glint of their shoddily concealed weapons.

As Giroro walked down these sketchy streets, his heart rate rose and the extra adrenaline sharpened his senses. His body focused away from the dull, throbbing pain in his bandaged arm, alerting him instead to the quick passing of shadows and the dank scent of hopelessness and despair. Giroro loved this feeling. The adrenaline high formed by his pounding heart reminded the savage corporal of the battlefield, bringing memories of death stained with the unforgettable stench of blood to the forefront of his soldiering mind.

After a few more minutes of walking down these treacherous streets, the small red toad reached his destination, a large, four-story building. Its exterior looked just as shady and unwelcoming as the rest of this wretched hole, with paint chipping off its wooden paneling and broken windows sealed with strips of gray adhesive. The bottom of the decrepit brownstone was brick and even that stone looked unsafe as it crumbled under Giroro's wary hand. He carefully climbed the rickety wooden steps leading to the front door, which was bared with cast-iron grating, a hint of rust peering from the metal's shallow crevices. Taking a long, heavy breath, the tiny soldier stretched up to his tip-toes, and mashed the discolored buzzer.

It was Cicero whom Giroro had forced this address from. After the Keronian's successful day in the Arena, the cowardly advisor had come down on behalf of his employer to wish him a half-hearted congratulation. Ari's coated words held no meaning for the distant warrior, who had been lost in his Claudius-based thoughts ever since his victory. By just raising his voice, Giroro shattered Cicero's will and the fragile Galean had all too eagerly scribbled the deceased champion's address onto a small piece of paper. Jeroro had openly voiced his concerns with the corporal's principles, saying that visiting the home wouldn't help ease his guilt, and in fact it the little visit might only worsen it. As usual, Giroro didn't listen.

"_Claudius Austello: 221 Salix St, 43__rd__ Stratum"_ was what Cicero scribbled. Giroro shoved the piece of paper under the brim of his hat after giving it a final glance, patiently waiting for the door to open. He could hear soft footsteps echoing within the decaying structure, which grew louder with time, followed by calls in a foreign tongue. Though he did not understand these words, Giroro assumed them to be Galean, and the tone indicated it was coming from a female. His heart quickened and his body began to tremble with anxiety. What would he say? What _could_ he say? He was beginning to regret his decision, but before he could turn tail and run, the clicking of metal tumblers shifting out of place and the screech of the metal grate paralyzed his form.

"Ima?" The woman asked in her language as she stood over the frozen Keronian. Like all Galean women, her face plates were thin and delicate, and her head crests grew closely to her skull. She was dressed in a black, hooded dress that cast a shadow over her puffy red eyes. She rested a hand lightly on her stomach which slightly protruded from her cowl, and traced her long nails lightly over the inflated skin. Comprehension seized Giroro by the throat, squeezing his lungs painfully as his steel eyes locked onto the widow's bulging belly. She was…pregnant. From the size of her stomach, she hadn't been with child long, probably around two months. Realizing that he had been staring blank-faced at the woman, Giroro cleared his throat and answered her question with another.

"Are you Mrs. Austello?" the solider asked professionally, trying to take his thoughts away from her physical condition.

However, the woman didn't answer back, but instead looked behind her and called, "Milo!" At her summons, a quick pitter-patter of feet jolted down a distant staircase and into the Keronian's sight. This time it was a small Galean boy, who looked to be around eight or nine. Although he was young, he was still taller than Giroro, and after a quick conversation with his mother he turned to the uneasy corporal, a small frown scrunching his youthful face.

"What do you want?" the boy asked in a language Giroro could finally understand. It seemed that the woman did not understand Basic, a universal language for all aliens. Nearly every planet that had inter-galactic trade taught Basic in their school's standard curriculum, so it was strange that she did not know it. _(NN: It's like English_ _for the Earth.)_ Apparently, there would be a language barrier he would have to surpass, using this young boy as an intermediary.

Claudius had only mentioned having one child; however, the woman who stood before him had two. Had Claudius even known of his wife's pregnancy? Or was this simply the wrong woman?

"I'm looking for Mrs Austello." Giroro repeated, looking at the young Galean, Milo.

Milo, glanced up at his mother and after an abstruse conversation he turned back to the stranger in their doorstep, "That's my mother, Tertia Austello. Did you know my dad?"

Giroro thought carefully over the child's question. The way he had said it made the corporal think that they hadn't seen Claudius' death match, and a small sigh of relief passed through his lips. He obviously couldn't just blurt out, 'yeah, I killed him' and plunge the broken family into further depression, but what else could he really say? In the short time Giroro had known the gentle gladiator, he had impacted him in such a manner that made the stalwart soldier want to throw himself at the widow's feet and beg for forgiveness. It had been a long time since Giroro had ever felt guilty for killing a man, and he had almost forgotten the bitter feeling of remorse.

"We…worked together." were the words he finally settled upon, though they burned his throat.

After Milo relayed the message to his mother, Tertia broke into a fit of joyous tears. A large smile broke open her face plates as she bent down and grasped onto Giroro's hands, gently tugging him into her home. Though she knew he couldn't understand her, she sputtered out cheerful words. Her relief, at seeing a decent person who knew her husband apart from the traitors and murderers he fought, shone in her eyes.

* * *

><p>At the Vallokius' estate, a very different course of events were brewing within. The senator had just gotten home, tired and sweaty from baking under the Arena's bright lights all day. He held his head as he walked through the large front door, having received an awful migraine after listening to those two goons, Hadrian Bauxtius and Drusus Pulorius. The two elderly aliens were all too eager to gain favor over each other by licking Ari's boots, which the pretentious politician was sure they'd actually do if asked. As he receded further into the manor's main foyer, he massaged his temples, struggling to listen to Cicero's incoherent ramblings. In fact, the cowardly advisor's speech was such a stuttering mess that Ari abruptly stopped mid-way through the grand hall, nearly causing his attendant to crash into his backside.<p>

"I know this is may be hard," Ari seethed, clamping onto the bridge of his nose to contain his anger, "But can you pretend to have balls for five minutes so I can understand everything coming out of your mouth?"

Cicero's heart jumped into his throat at his boss' cynicism. His shoulders began to tremble and knees started to knock together as he clutched tightly to his holopad, "A-All I'm saying is that if the K-keronian k-keeps progressing at this r-rate, you may have to actually f-fight him." he choked, trying his best to enunciate his words.

Ari's eye twitched as he listened to his blubbering advisor's words. _Actually_ fight him? Did Cicero really have no faith in his skills? The war-mongering senator was practically counting on the Keronian's victory as his aged body yearned for the same excitement of its youth. The mere notion that Cicero placed some doubt in Vallokius' abilities made his blood boil, and he craved to turn around and smack some sense through the secretary's fragile form. Thankfully, the young Galean was not one of Ari's slaves, so he could not exert the same strategies of discipline he exercised on his chattel.

A small snicker alerted his attention to the far corner of the room, where his Ancilla was eavesdropping on their entire conversation. "What? Do you have something to add?" he hissed as he marched over to her position, towering over Natsumi with fire in his eyes. Much to his disdain, she glared right back, the same amount of ferocity defiantly swirling in her golden orbs. Not even three days after he had snuffed her will had she had regained it, now burning twice as hot and all because of that damned frog! "Answer me!?" Ari bellowed, grasping Natsumi tightly by the throat. She continued to glower at him silently, only fueling his anger as he began to snort and huff, his blood pressure rising through the roof.

Before he could reach his breaking point, Mira had strutted into the room, covering the mouth of a telephone with her palm, "Haeres, Representative Balbus is on the line…" she seductively oozed, her sensuality easing her master's rage. Ari sighed, straightened himself up, and looked calmly into Natsumi's eyes.

"You know, I'm actually hoping your little rana succeeds; because then I shall _savor_ the look on your face when I take his last breath." He whispered sharply, pushing her away as he stormed over to Mira.

Natsumi fell to her knees with a soft thud, and wrapped her arms around herself, _"Only a few more days, Giroro."_ She thought to herself, thinking of the promise he made as he lay bleeding on the senator's floor. Was he even still alive? There had been so much blood, but it would take more than a mirror to defeat her red defender. Natsumi was certain of that.

It was almost funny really, how often Giroro came into her mind. She had long since stopped thinking of home, or her family, or even that stupid green frog plotting underneath their house. All she wanted, all she needed was Giroro and the thought of life without him was incomprehensible. Of course, her entire thought process could easily be rationalized by saying that the love-struck corporal was her only real chance at freedom. No one else was looking for her and (for all she knew) no one else was even aware of her disappearance. However, no matter how much she wished to simply explain away the feelings tumbling in her stomach, she couldn't. It was something…else that made her desire her red knight, something beyond the fact that without him she would remain a slave under the rule of a sadistic monster for many years to come.

She wanted to feel the soft velvet of his cap brush against her cheek and hold onto his warm belly as she secured him in a tight hug. She needed to hear his deep voice quell her doubts and to see his face violently flush as she caught him staring at her innocent form. How could she have been so blind to not see the passion consuming the stalwart solider? Every time she even talked to him he always seemed to explode into a queasy, bashful mess. Had she been so engrossed in a meaningless chase with Saburo that she had failed to see what love was hers all along?

This was not the right time for these thoughts, though it seemed there never was a "right" time. Yet, no matter how misplaced her thoughts appeared, it didn't stop them from happening. Giroro loved her, that was certain, but did she really love him back? The longer she stayed on this heinous world, the more confused about her own feelings she felt. There was this…aura about him that was absolutely relentless and she knew he wouldn't stop fighting until he had claimed his victory and secured her freedom. He had thrown himself in harm's way numerous times for her safety, so why couldn't she give him the place he so rightfully deserved in her heart?

Natsumi closed her eyes, leaning back onto the wall and touching her right breast. The scarred flesh burned beneath her touch, forcing her thoughts to darken. What would Giroro's reaction be when he found out about her…misfortune? Would he treat her any differently now that his youthful love had been forcibly deflowered? Would he stop loving her, seeing her as a used commodity, instead of a forbidden fruit? The mere thought of Giroro revoking his amorous feelings caused Natsumi's heart to quake. It was then that she realized she cared about how Giroro perceived her. She needed him to love her, because deep down, hidden in the darkest, most cavernous crevices of her soul…she loved him too.

* * *

><p>After spending the majority of the evening at the Austello household, Giroro was finally able to break free. The poor widow had blubbered for what felt like forever before he could even get a word in and his attention had reluctantly drifted to her shanty living conditions. Although the place was relatively tidy, it was in need of some serious maintenance. Paint chipped off the yellowing walls and unnatural stains discolored the thin carpet. The chrome sink faucets were rusted and dripped obnoxiously, which had worked well to down out Tertia's sobs.<p>

The widow had told him everything there was to know about her husband. About how they met, their wedding, the day Milo was born. She shared her entire life with Giroro, who had struggled to tune her out the entire time. He didn't want to know about this family's trials, about their happy moments and their downs. Their smiles had already been snuffed out by Giroro's hand, never to rise from their tormented souls again.

When he was finally able to speak, there was nothing left to say. He had come to pay his respects to the fallen gladiator's family in a desperate attempt to alleviate his own guilt and he had done so…. unsuccessfully. As usual, Jeroro had been right, and visiting Claudius' family had only made him feel guiltier. However, he was far too stubborn to admit this as he gave the broken family a final goodbye and excused himself from their small apartment.

By the time he had left, the boy had seemed unnaturally flustered by the Keronian's presence. The only words Milo spoke were when he had to translate his mother's sobs, and even then his tone bled resentment. Pushing aside the child's strange behavior as a sign of mourning, the notion that Milo had figured out his true identity crossed Giroro's mind.

Clouds of dust whisked into the filthy air and the sound of foreign footsteps reverberated off abandoned buildings. The sound ceased abruptly as they skidded to a haul just behind the Keronian and jerked him from his thoughts, the glint of cold metal catching his wandering eye.

"You killed him, didn't you?!" Milo shouted, a gun clenched in his trembling hands. Despite the obvious danger, the first thought that came to corporal's mind was how an eight year-old had managed to get his hands on a firearm. Of course, in a neighborhood like this, not owning a weapon would be foolish. Giroro slowly turned towards the young boy, his grim eyes narrowing as he stared at the shaking pistol. "Didn't you?!" Milo yelled, tears welling in his eyes.

With a swift hand Giroro snatched the gun from the crying boy's hands and ejected its plasma core. Fearful for his life, Milo fell to his knees, his tears turning the dirt streets into mud. "Do you know why your father fought?" the solider mumbled harshly, twirling the ammo capsule about in his hand. The boy stared blankly at Giroro's feet and his shoulders quaked in terror. "He did it to secure your future. To give you a chance to get out this hellhole and make a difference for you and your family. He did it so you could go to school and be successful without relying on killing to make a living, or the warped minds of people to save your life." The corporal sighed as he looked down on the frightened boy, and continued his speech, "Your father wouldn't have wanted you to throw your life away on revenge. Don't make his death in vain." Throwing the plasma capsule down an alley, he handed the empty gun back to the trembling kid and slowly began to walk away. "Oh, and next time you point a gun at someone, make sure your safety is off." With that last piece of advice, the Giroro vanished into the smog, leaving the crying child to mourn in the streets.

"Why did he have to die?" Milo called into the empty distance, his quivering voice waiting for a response that would never come.

Why _did_ Claudius, a righteous, family-oriented man have to die? Giroro pondered this as he somberly left from that treacherous neighborhood. It was the same as asking why any warrior had to die, a question that would always have the same answer:

So that someone innocent could live.

* * *

><p><em><strong>FINALLY! After a week of non-stop school, I'm able to grant you a new chapter. Huzzah! Next one will be Scanty's OC prize chapter, so prepare for that. ^_^ <strong>_

_**Holy crap, Natsumi finally admits her feelings. It only took what…27 chapters? XD Whoops. **_

_**Thanks to FutileCrux for everything she's done for this story. She's wonderful. :) Go check out her story, The Bastion Heir, if you haven't already. It needs lots of loves! **_


	28. Go For Broke: Part One

**C****HAPTER**** 28: G****O**** F****OR**** B****ROKE (PART ONE)  
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"Lugula, lugula, lugula!" the Arena's crowd roared as they wished death over the fallen gladiator. With a smirk, Senator Vallokius gave the signal, and the victor raised her mighty morning star and smashed it into the defeated warrior's head. Steam rose from the futuristic mace as it vibrated deeper into its victims' skull, crushing the bone and searing the meaty pulp with its white-hot spikes. Natsumi looked away.

Her name was Agatha. The crowd roared it triumphantly as she ripped her steaming mace from the body of the fallen. Her iridescent skin twinkled under the coliseum lights and her gelatinous hair tendrils bounced as she jumped in excitement. She was an Argean, a race of short, one-eyed humanoids from the mountainous planet, Hesiod. Despite her stature, confidence seemed to radiate from her in waves. Agatha roared, her voice rolling brashly in her native tongue, rallying the masses to bask in her glorious victory.

Her skin was a mixture of pastel greens and purples, with patches of dark gray on her cheeks and fingertips. White freckles decorated her dimpled cheeks and her long eyelashes whisked playfully over her emerald colored eye. Her hair was an impenetrable, jelly-like substance and was dyed pink and purple, which contrasted nicely against her skin. A red ring lightly swelled around her singular eye, like an infection, making it pop against her baby-faced features.

Agatha was the epitome of what not to be in the Arena: small, freeborn, and female. And yet she was winning. Today was Saturday, the third day of Vallokius' gladiatorial tournament and the slender cyclops was undefeated. She had clawed her way into the spectator's hearts, pummeling their initial doubts with displays of her brute strength, sheer agility, and profound confidence. Traveling all the way from her clan in Hesiod, Agatha fought for money, sport, and to feed her desire for attention. The primitive tribes on her planet had little patience for her "egotistical arrogance" and so she left, quenching her expansive ego with the blood of these dangerous men.

As the dead Drura's body was dragged away, the sound of an opening portcullis turned the heads of the audience of thousands, and a pink hard light bridge flickered on over the gap. Agatha shuddered at the screech of the latticed metal, making her eye focus on the swirling shadows leading into the underbelly of the Arena. Steel-blue eyes peered out from the darkness. The figure's footsteps chirped against the coarse sand as his crimson body stepped out into the crowd's view.

Loud cheers erupted from the audience as the people flew from their seats to get a better view of the small Keronian. With his constant victories, Giroro had become a fan favorite, going as far as becoming a hero to the minority free-borns on Cassadia. Not that any of this mattered to him. All he wanted was Natsumi. As the battle-worn warrior walked onto the battlefield, his eyes were not where they should have been. Instead of facing his opponent and formulating tactics, he stared up at Ari's box and searched for his love.

Soft amber eyes met his from high above the battleground. Natsumi's golden headdress concealed a small smile from her master's wary gaze. Her aura radiated confidence and conviction towards the small solider, a conviction which seemed to strengthen both of their weakened states. The two had faced many trials before and they would face this one as they always had…together. The solitary moment in the blood-strewn conflict was shattered by a smug grin from Ari, as he motioned to his quivering advisor to start the match.

Still locked in a gaze with his Natsumi, Giroro did not notice the crowd's sudden inflection with the sounding of the bell, nor did he see Agatha's morning star as it arced over his head. The gust from the mighty weapon made his ear flaps billow and it was only when his opponent spoke that the distracted corporal noticed the match had already begun.

"Hey, Frog! I'm your target. Focus on me," Agatha sneered, her broken Basic filled with the haughtiness only a true gladiator could possess.

Until that point, Giroro hadn't even gotten a good look at his target. His mind was too focused on protecting Natsumi to worry about what scum Fate had decided to pair him with. The fuchsia of his plasma blade cast a warm tint over his hardened features and he turned to face the awaiting female. Wait…she was, a girl? Shock took hold of him and from the Agatha's annoyed expression, the disbelief must have been evident on his face. Of course he wasn't one to judge, Natsumi was a girl too and she had conquered his heart with one display of her sheer strength. Giroro would not underestimate this young woman because of her gender. It would be foolish and hypocritical. However, the mere fact that a woman would even want to participate in this death match was concerning. Were female prisoners forced to fight as well?

She wasn't dressed like a slave though. The Argean wore a near full set of armor, complete with ornately decorated pauldrons, boots, gauntlets, and a chest plate. The only thing missing was a helmet. Did any of these gladiators wear head protection? Underneath her metal plating, she wore a pink pinstripe dress, which seemed to be made of…burlap? Giroro had only ever seen the substance used in food storage, like the sacks of sweet potatoes. It must have been uncomfortable, perhaps contributing to the scowl smeared across her face. No, she definitely wasn't a slave. Her attitude was too smug and proud to be from a prisoner of any kind. She definitely enjoyed the thrill of battle, like him and Natsumi. This would be an interesting fight.

"Finally ready?" she sneered, soaking up the attention from the crowd as she patiently waited.

A small smirk peeled Giroro's lips apart and he tightened the grip on his blade, "Your move."

"Wrong answer!" Agatha roared as she rushed towards her opponent, wielding the large morning star out to the side. Using the momentum of her charge, her weapon arced in an upwards stroke, its spiked sphere slicing through the sand as it hurtled towards the primed Keronian. Giroro rolled to the side just before the mace could make contact and readied his blade. He dashed towards the female cyclops, his fuchsia plasma radiating as it closed the distance with her neck. From high in the air, Agatha's mace pummeled towards the ground and collided with the corporal's saber. Sparks flew as their weapons met. The power struggle had begun.

The two warrior's gazes locked together as each forced their weapons upon the other. Electricity surged through the tension and the atmosphere dripped with the desire for blood. The vibrations Agatha's morning star produced made it difficult for Giroro to keep a sturdy grip on his saber, but slowly the molten plasma seeped into the metallic sphere. As it seemed now, their power levels were equal and a stalemate was something neither of them would consent to. Simultaneously, they tore apart from each other, the energy produced from their struggle knocking both on their rears.

He needed a strategy, the panting solider thought as he slowly picked himself up off the sand. His mind flashed back to his subconscious, where the two manifestations of his personalities, Cael and Claudius, had struggled for control. It was time to choose what type of warrior he wanted to be—to either rely solely on his heart to guide his hand, or sink into his instinctual desire for madness. Only by choosing one of these methods could he surpass his current power level and he needed to be stronger if he was to defeat his final opponent, Ari. Now was as good a time as ever to test the waters of these two sides.

His lover's heart could easily take the advantage and sear straight through Agatha's sinful pride to secure Natsumi's freedom. Certainly his reason for fighting was more righteous than his opponent's, his gallant heroics overcoming the greedy woman's selfish yearnings. With a gentle smile the noble knight looked up at his princess, held high in her keep. He would rescue his fair maiden from the vile dragon. This ogre just needed to be slain first.

_"Surrender yourself to your emotions completely; then you'll be able to find your inner strength," _Giroro could hear Claudius' words ringing in his head as he dug his feet into the warm earth and prepared to attack. Sand flew from his heels as he leaped towards his target and a pink stream of light flowed behind his movements. As the love-stricken warrior raised his plasma blade high above his head, he did the most unimaginable thing possible to do in the midst of a battle—he closed his eyes. With his eyes shut tight, Giroro opened his heart and let the passion of his burning love flow course his veins. The outside world seemed to materialize within his darkened mind, allowing him to hear the metallic arc of his opponent's mace as she readied her strike, the squeaky cheers of a child held securely on their father's shoulders, and even Natsumi's held breath as she anxiously watched her red defender. He could hear concessions crashing onto the littered ground and the electronic humming of cameras catching their every move. In this altered state of consciousness, his perception spanned to everywhere, and everywhere was Natsumi. Her compassion was mirrored in the father and child, her energy in the humming electronics and crashing of confections. It felt as though she was the world surrounding him. Her vitality her fervor, her distrust of aliens…

Giroro's eyes snapped open as his blade crashed against Agatha's mace and sparks danced in the air. They slashed and swung, ducked and weaved, neither gaining significant ground and only one growing tired. Exhaustion was not an option for Giroro as he began to push the Argean back on the sand, giving him ever so slightly an edge—an edge which was driving the senator insane.

Up in his sky box, Ari Vallokius was mauling the side of his chair. His long talons bore deep into the metal armrest, making his elderly companions eye him anxiously. Although his body yearned to fight the Keronian, seeing him achieving victory so easily was unnerving. With every display of the corporal's bravery his ancilla grew more rebellious. It was a mistake to have brought her here, he thought as the armrest squealed beneath his hand. If only she could see him squirm, perhaps then she would relinquish her defiant antics.

"Ancilla, esca," Ari hummed as a devious smirk cracked open his face plates. Natsumi responded with a soft snort and her upper lip curled into a sneer, but she did as he asked and went to the dessert table to retrieve a pastry. At the pace Giroro was fighting, it wouldn't be long before he put a hole in her "Haeres'" head. Surely he would do much better on their rematch, her sudden appearance just caught him off guard and that's why he slipped up the first time, right? The moist pastry oozed under her grasp as she placed it on a small plate. Natsumi extinguished the thoughts running rampant over her mind with a shake of her flaming hair and extended the sapid dessert to her master.

Like a snake striking its prey, Ari's hand wrapped around her arm. His claw-like nails threatened to pierce the delicate flesh as he tightened his grip, making her yelp in pain. The yelp was just loud enough to reach Giroro's heightened senses and his attention whipped upward at her cry. A wicked grin contorted Ari's face as Giroro's eyes fell upon the spiteful delegate and his jagged teeth gleamed sinisterly. His vertical pupils dilated in excitement as he reared back his muscular hand and struck Natsumi square across her cheek. The force of the blow was so great that it knocked her into the concessions table, spilt wine bottles and pastries accompanying her fall. A look of sheer horror captivated Giroro's face as he witnessed this monstrous event and Ari burst into a fit of laughter.

Giroro's heart sunk as Natsumi cried out in pain. Her anguish immobilized his form, and Ari's maniacal laughter drove him over the brink. Rage swallowed the corporal as he bellowed obscenities towards his vile host. There was no reason for the heinous action Ari had committed other than to rile the frantic toad, which had succeeded splendidly. The Keronian snorted and yelled, his attention completely distracted from his current fight.

Unlike Giroro though, Natsumi wasn't foolish enough to lose her temper in front of the wicked senator. Sure, her attitude had received a severe adjustment upon reuniting with her froggy companion, but instead of lashing out and tossing herself in even more danger she had chosen a different method of protest—a silent revolution. Her silence continuously irked Ari as she refused to acknowledge any question the senator demanded, answering only with a look of wrathful ignorance. Even now as she picked herself up out of the wreckage, eyes narrowed in vexation, a voiceless rebellion thrashed against his actions. Her eyes softened only when they swung away from him, to the Keronian yelling with indignation.

Agatha's eye twitched as she realized her spotlight was being stolen. Her opponent was completely ignoring her to yell at some Galean politician for whatever reason and all the cameras had zoomed in on his tantrum. Leather creaked under her grasp as she tightened her grip around her mace. _She _was supposed to be the star of the Arena, not this…amphibious freak!

"Bastard!" Agatha yelled, "Look at me!" She arced her morning star back and planted her feet firmly in the sand. With all her might, the hardy Argean launched her weapon into Giroro's unprepared stomach, hurtling the Keronian across the battlefield. The crowd grew eerily silent as the gladiator fell, straining their necks to get a better view of his limp form.

Pain surged through the injured soldier's midsection as he curled into a fetal position, coughing and wheezing to try to calm his convulsing diaphragm. It was hard to breath and he felt as if all the wind had been forced from his lungs. He was dizzy and nauseous, his eyes unable to focus on the sand swirling before him. Giroro spat, attempting to relieve the burning sensation tickling his throat as he shakily pulled himself upright.

His opponent was strong. Although she was slender and small, her size did not take away from her power. Because of the high altitude their species' planet, Argean's muscles were naturally denser, yielding them untold strength while still granting them slim bodies. It was obvious now that "surrendering yourself to your emotions completely" was not a viable option as long as Natsumi was within earshot. Giroro's mind concentrated too much on her safety for him to focus on his current task, leaving him wide open for abuse. He would have to change strategies to survive.

Brute force and blunt tactics—that was the only option he had left. He had to forget about Natsumi's presence and focus all his power towards his prey. _"The only things I should be carrying with onto a battlefield are my gun and my wits. I could have rescued Natsumi by now. I'm letting my emotions interfere with my abilities..." _Giroro's thoughts reflected Cael as he closed his eyes, succumbing to the darkness. As he delved deeper into the recesses of his mind, all thoughts of Natsumi disappeared. His senses narrowed and the outside world vanished from his perception. The only thing that was real was the battlefield; everything else was void. Like a berserk beast, his warrior soul roared and thrashed in its cage, demanding full release. Its steel-blue eyes gleamed in the darkness and salvia dripped from its crimson chin. Hesitantly, Giroro outstretched his hand and grasped onto the cold metal bars. "I'm sorry, Natsumi," he whispered as the lock clicked out of place.

Giroro opened his eyes. His pupils constricted with blood lust as they set themselves on his prey. A low snarl churned from his throat as he stared at the pompous cyclops, his pointy teeth sticking out over a bottom lip drawn into a horrible smile. Agatha haughtily smirked at the crazed Keronian, her single eye staring narrowly at him. "It's about time you got serious," she snorted, taking up her mace with both hands. With a flick of her wrist, she turned the end of her weapon's handle and the spiked sphere became dislodged. A thick chain connected the end to its handle, turning the large morning star into an even more dangerous flail.

As she swung the mace, ball and chain hurtled thunderously through the air, pummeling towards their tiny target. Giroro rolled out of the way as the metal sphere crashed onto the sand. Agatha jerked on the chain and the flail's end began to roll sideways, its plasma-infused spikes tearing up the ground in its path. Once again the corporal dodged, this time by back-flipping over it. With a quick slash of his sword, Giroro sliced through the chain, disconnecting the business end of Agatha's weapon. Although she tried to remedy this great disadvantage by acting as if the chain was a whip, her failure was imminent as the savage solider leaped into the air, his saber arcing towards the young woman's neck.

Agatha's eye widened as the fuchsia plasma filled her view. Her heart clogged her throat and her trembling hands dropped her decimated weapon. Her death was unavoidable. She couldn't dodge it, she couldn't block it, all she could do was stare, her large round eye welling with reluctant tears as she awaited her impending doom.

Agatha had been so strong and so powerful for her age and looks. She wasn't afraid of taunting her victims when they deserved it, and even when they didn't. Yet she was still capable of rational emotions, the tears in her eye were proof of that. Her entire demeanor towards fighting seemed strangely familiar to Giroro as his blade inched towards his victim's throat. It was almost like…Natsumi? His pupils dilated and the outside world materialized before him. That was right, Natsumi was watching him. She was cheering for his victory, high above the battleground. But certainly she didn't want all that his victory would come with, and Giroro didn't want her to see this side of him again. She had caught a glimpse of the remnants of his blood-crazed beast mode aboard Cael's ship and it had frightened her. Could he show it to her again, and cut down this "innocent" woman in cold blood? He quickly pressed the button on his blade's handle, and the plasma dispersed, allowing him to pass by Agatha without harming her. As he landed onto the sand, he threw down his weapon and held his head as the stress began to pool inside him. What the hell had he just done?

"I'm a soldier, not a murderer," he muttered to himself, and his mind flashed to Claudius. He had murdered an innocent that day; he wouldn't make Agatha his second this week. He wasn't a cold-blooded mercenary. He was a soldier, a man of honor and an enforcer of justice and order. At least, that was what he was _supposed_ to be.

Agatha's eye twitched as she realized her life had been spared. In rage, she picked up her weapon and broke off the metal chain from the handle, "You bastard! You spared me because I was a woman, didn't you?" she spat, wielding her baton above her head.

However, Giroro didn't respond, still thinking about what it meant to be a soldier. For two years he had lived on Pekopon, his mission to take over the planet for the glory of Keron. That act would make him a hero to his people, but an enemy to the few Pekoponians whom he had grown to care for. His love for Natsumi would classify him as a traitor though, wouldn't it? So what was he? An honorable soldier, or a blissfully ignorant traitor?

"Answer me, you misogynistic pig!" the female warrior roared as her metal pipe lashed into the back of Giroro's skull. The impact forced him on the ground and he ate sand, grasping onto the back of his smarting head. Agatha stomped a heavy boot down upon her enemy, kicking him repeatedly in spite.

Giroro groaned and covered his head to protect it from the immense beating, "I just don't want to kill you…" he choked, gritty sand caking onto his tongue.

"That's what I'd expect from a sexist swine," Agatha sneered as she raised her boot high and prepared to crush the Keronian's skull.

"Stop!" Ari's voice echoed authoritatively from his skybox, "I declare the winner of this match to be the Argean, Agatha." Only half the crowd cheered at the senator's declaration, while the other half either glared at the defeated toad, or preemptively mourned for him. "Now, people of Cassidia, what fate shall behold the fallen?"

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><p><em><strong>And just when you thought he was going to win too… XD Ah twists. Review!<strong>_


	29. Go For Broke: Part Two

**C****HAPTER**** 29: G****O**** F****OR**** B****ROKE ****(P****ART ****T****WO****)**

"People of Cassidia, what fate shall behold the fallen?" Ari's words seemed to drip with acid, eating away at the hearts of Giroro's fans.

With his head driven into the sand by Agatha's heavy press, the Keronian corporal contemplated his fate. Would his heart's blood feed the golden sand? Or would his life be given back while his hopes for saving Natsumi were snuffed with the flames of defeat? The crowd, whose raving appetite for blood usually clouded their personal judgments, was torn amongst itself, fighting over the life of the defeated toad. The Giroro's honorable, but distasteful action had incited a literal riot within the stands, as audience members fought for the fate of this little _rana_.

A good half of the spectators wished for the soldier's immediate death by Agatha's hand. Their reasoning varied in complexity, with the simplest being that he had lost and that death was the gladiator's only exit. Others believed the Keronian was too cowardly at heart, or his race's weaknesses had finally begun to show. Still other, mainly female viewers took a more feminist viewpoint and raged against the misogynistic views of the misunderstood corporal. Death chants roared from their throats as they held their hands decisively over their hearts, urging their senator to side with them. Their unofficial ambassador was Drusus Pulorius, who murmured harsh words towards the squirming frog. Giroro had killed Claudius, one of Pulorius' best gladiators, and the hate for the red warrior glistened brightly in the elder's drooping eyes.

The other half of the Arena raised their voices with cries of, "mitte," begging for their hero to be spared a gruesome death. To them, he had fought honorably and it was a chivalrous act to have chosen to forfeit the contest to save the life of this young woman gladiator. However, most audience members with this perspective were either women or children, who found the crimson frog to be an adorable gentleman. They outstretched their palms towards their "impartial" host in an act of peace, hoping his righteous verdict would forgive Giroro's moment of weakness. Their hope was reiterated through Hadrian Bauxtius, who, fearing the public's response and having picked up on the underlying personal implications this gladiator seemed to have with his host's ancilla, urged the irritable politician to tread a lighter course of action.

With the crowd evenly split, it became obvious to Ari that he would be the deciding factor and he carefully mulled over his two options. Of course, killing the pesky toad would instantly end the nonsensical power struggle between them and quell his ancilla's irritating rebellion. He would get to bask in her despair as she bent once again to his will and use the event as a morbid reminder towards the next time she dared to act against him. Killing Giroro seemed like the best course of action, erasing his personal dilemmas while feeding the crowd's blood lust, and assuring Agatha's ascension to the top. Well…scratch that last part. The Argean was already destined to fight Ragnarök with this last victory. No loser had ever fought the Arena champion and Ari's decision would not alter this path. And yet, something nagged at the back of his mind, urging him to spare the pathetic frog.

"Cicero, what side is Fate on?" he curiously asked. Having an unbiased AI's opinion was sure to help along his choice.

Cicero's knees buckled as all the attention was diverted towards him. He quickly scoured his holopad for the answer, searching F.A.T.E's databank to review all her predetermined calculations, "Sh-she's not picking a side. She says the d-data change is too continuous for her to have a precise d-decision," he stuttered.

Ari scoffed, grasping the bridge of his flattened nose to pinch his anger, "Typical woman. They're so opinionated until the hard choices come along."

Quietly in the background, Natsumi scoffed.

"Do you have something to add?" Ari snapped as his head turned towards the delinquent girl.

Silence past as Natsumi built the courage to retaliate. To refrain from speaking and wittingly anger the overgrown reptile was one thing, but to openly voice her hatred for him and throw herself into the subsequent line of fire was something that took slightly more forethought. The first time she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Her chest felt so heavy, Ari's dominance compressing her lungs and forcing the temperamental woman back into silent servitude.

"That's what I thought," Ari scoffed, resuming his in-depth contemplation.

"You should spare him, Senator," Hadrian creakily begged, "Think of the scandals his death could arise," With these past few days, it had come to the old Galean's attention that something disreputable was happening between his powerful host and that red Keronian. The anger that radiated from Ari upon sight of the little warrior and the way the gladiator had responded with the brutal act Ari had demonstrated upon his ancilla had almost given it away. Almost.

He had accurately discerned that the Red Defender, or whatever the warrior was calling himself, and Ari's newly obtained ancilla were lovers. However, the circumstances he believed surrounded Giroro's presence within the Arena tournament were much darker and more deceptive than they actually were. He thought that the Keronian had threatened to go public with a sob story about how his love was taken away from him by an evil politician, and to silence him Ari had had him arrested and sentenced to fight in the Arena until death. If he was to be killed now and somehow his story got out it could spur an anti-Vallokius campaign trail or even worse, an abolitionist uprising. Bauxtius enjoyed the interest he was receiving from the senator too much to allow the rash Galean's career to be spoiled with a hasty clean-up job.

"Don't listen to him, Senator. He's gone senile. You should kill the Keronian. He's caused too much trouble for you," Drusus cut in. Unlike his rival, Pulorius hadn't caught on to the connection between Natsumi and Giroro, believing the "scandals" Hadrian talked about were signs of his deteriorating old mind, a sign he believed would prove to Ari that he was more deserving of the politician's money and attention than Bauxtius. It was a vicious battle between the two elders over which would receive Ari's personal investment. Before, he had been giving patronage to Pulorius in order to pay for Claudius' training, but since his death the two men had been ruthlessly trying to one-up the other in order to secure the senator's next big investment.

"You're the one that's gone senile! You're too rash. The people love him!" Hadrian croaked.

"Not anymore. He's just like Claudius. They expect too much out of a gladiator to see them fail. The people want blood."

"No, you just want revenge."

"Shut up both of you!" Ari yelled. His companions constant bickering had gotten the better of his short temper, and the two elders quickly silenced themselves at their host's decree.

Why was he hesitating? Wouldn't it be easier to kill Giroro and let his ancilla suffer than deal with another random variable that had nearly escaped his control? The possibility of a scandal was not the reason Ari was hesitant. He had dealt with the underhandedness of the media in the past. When he was just beginning his career as a politician, the press had accused him of war crimes because of the horrid methods he had used to "extract information" from enemy prisoners of war during his service in the Galean army in an effort to derail his campaign. It was all garbage. Everything he had done was in service of his military, and was completely legal. If for some unforeseen reason the pesky frog _did_ decide to go to the press and pitch them some soap opera he would be dealing with a similar situation of legality, which of course he would win easily. So, scandals were not the reason for his indecisiveness.

"You're a coward if you kill him now," the words finally spilt from Natsumi—words that sent the already agitated Ari over the edge.

As he turned to meet the defiant woman, his pupils constricted into a thin vertical slit and his blackened sclera gleamed with fury. Who did this girl think she was to imply that he was cowardly? To be a coward was to be weak, and Ari abhorred weakness. In fact, the sheer sight of anything that could be considered frail sent shivers down his spine. The only reason he put up with Cicero was because he was so full of cowardice that it was actually humorous to watch most of the time. But how dare she call _him_ weak. Was she trying to taunt him into sparing her love? Or did she really just have a death wish?

"Go on…" Ari droned, struggling to keep a composed façade. He had already escaped the eye of the camera once when he assaulted his slave, surely he would not be so lucky again.

Natsumi's amber orbs stared daggers back at her captor and the electricity sparked through the air, "If you kill him now, it'll be the easiest way to get out of your fight. Surely you're not afraid he'll kill you, because it would look rather weak of you to chicken out."

Chicken? What was a chicken? Wasn't it that feathery flightless creature that woke people up in the mornings on Pekopon? While the idiom escaped Ari's immediate understanding, he discerned from the tone of her voice that to be a "chicken" was not something that was wished for, and that alone irked him further. In truth, the reason Ari hadn't made his decision yet was because part of him really wanted to fight Giroro. It would be a nice change from enduring ignorant politics and sycophantic parasites. However, choosing to spare the Keronian only to have to be bested when they fought would be a major setback that the Galean didn't necessarily want to chance. He didn't want to lose his new ancilla and the large investment he had put into acquiring her, but he wasn't about to break his word either. Ari was a lot of things, but a hypocrite wasn't one of them.

* * *

><p>Back on the sand, Giroro's mind had begun to drift into towards the decision that had gotten him in this predicament in the first place—why he hadn't killed Agatha. Was it because she was a civilian? No, he had killed Claudius despite his innocence. Innocent, what did that word even mean? In all reality, neither Agatha nor Claudius was truly <em>innocent<em>. They had both killed countless before in the Arena either for money or sport. What made them any different than the Grall and Hayg he had slaughtered without a moment's hesitation? Then again, both of those aliens were convicted felons, sentenced to fight until their death in the Arena. He knew why he had hesitated when killing Claudius; because like him the gentle giant was fighting for love—a dream Giroro had doused when he drove his saber through the Galean's heart. _"Ironic,"_ he thought, lying cloddishly on the sand, for now his enemy had a chance to extinguish his goal as swiftly as he had Claudius'.

He sighed and turned the unanswered question over in his mind again; _why_ hadn't he killed Agatha? It wasn't because she was a woman, like the wrathful Argean (and half the female audience) thought as she dug her boot into his head, awaiting the senator's decision. Was it her reason for fighting? Her reason _was_ arrogant and prideful. She fought for the love of fighting, for the joy of blood and all the attention that followed. For that reason alone Giroro should have had no problem taking this woman's life, and yet his hand had abstained.

He had killed so many people in his career as a soldier of Keron that he had become desensitized to blood and war all together. He had seen his brethren blown to pieces beside him and he had ruthlessly slaughtered enemy forces without thought. He was ordered to, and so he did. He was blissfully brainwashed into thinking the enemy were evil, godless beings that deserved death. However, he wasn't being ordered to kill now. Giroro was apart from his platoon, far from his home, and the only one who told him what actions to make was himself. It was strange feeling, and one he wasn't sure he was completely comfortable with. After all, the only difference between a soldier and a murderer is that one is reinforced by the State.

So why hadn't he killed Agatha? Because Natsumi was there.

Sure, he had protected her against threats in the past, but they had been different. In those instances, his true enemy had been the one he was fighting. The enemy here was watching him fight with maniacal enthusiasm, vehemently withholding the freedom of Giroro's beloved. He fought not by his government's decree and Natsumi had no wish for either of them to be in this situation. He had been fighting all for the sake reaching of his _true_ enemy…the one who had given him the terrible choice to kill or be killed.

He had chosen this terrible path, but he hadn't wanted it. Giroro had no wish for Natsumi to think of him as a cold-blooded killer. His desire was to protect her, but the only person he should have had to kill was the one holding her captive. Like a master puppeteer, Ari controlled the strings of fortune and chance, bending people to his will. And now Giroro bent—his life completely in his enemy's hand.

As Ari stood and walked to the front of his box, the crowd grew eerily silent and those fighting quickly relinquished their struggle to stretch their heads towards their senator's words. The decision had been made. He cleared his throat, and the microphone screeched under his sultry voice. The camera zoomed on the handsome Galean's features and an air of yearning swooned over the mass of young female spectators. It was amazing really, Ari was pushing 40 and yet he could still make school-aged girls blush and giggle like feverish hyenas.

"I, Senator Ari Vallokius, have decided the fate of this fallen gladiator," Ari started, gathering the attention of his citizens as they hung on his words, "The Red Defender," the tension was so thick it was hard to breath, and the air was still as stone. Even the babies had stopped crying to listen to the indecipherable words of their senator, their large eyes widened as they cooed at the sublime expressions captivating their parent's faces. Jeroro's grip had tightened on his cane, his whitened knuckles trembling with both rage and suspense. It was unforgivable the actions Giroro had taken, and the old frog would make sure to assert his discrepancy with the corporal's beliefs when he saw him again…_if_ he saw him again. Leather creaked as Agatha wielded her busted baton, and Giroro slowly groaned as she dug her metal heel into the side of his swollen face. "…shall live."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Finally, the entire chapter is completed. This is part 22 for the "Go For Broke" OC Prize chapter, and the only reason it's not called Ch 28: Part 2 is because I didn't feel like all my chapters being one behind FanFiction's numbering system. So, to get the full effect of this chapter, read part 1 and 2 back to back. It was extremely long and I basically took 5 pages to explain action consisting of five minutes. XD Lawl. As always, review! :)**_


	30. Kiss of an Angel

**C****HAPTER**** 30: K****ISS OF AN ****A****NGEL**

Above all else, the Arena was a business, and like all businesses, it was comprised of three important factors: the people who worked for it, the people who maintained it, and the privy prestigious benefactors who kept it afloat. The nature of this business called for their employees to be either injured or killed on a daily basis, and as such health services were an ever present need. Making one final journey, the corpses of the fallen would be dragged off the sand and down into the medic's chambers where they were stowed until they could be prepped for shipment to the crematorium. The injured followed the macabre trail into the infirmary for a rigorous physical. There, their cuts would be sanitized and their wounds bandaged, all in preparation for yet another beating. Most handled the ordeal in stoic silence, for it is far better to be a living cross-stitched gladiator than a pile of ash.

Limping into this dank hull below the Arena, Giroro followed suit and awaited his treatment. The room was dark, with no other source of light other than a dimming overhead, which flickered and whined as its dwindling bulb groaned for life. A pallet of blood encrusted itself into the crevices of the laminated tiles, and the crumbling walls were layered with a thick coating of dust and grime. Although the coliseum had undergone periodic remodeling to accommodate the ever-advancing technology, its main infrastructure had mostly been left intact, and the 500 years of weathering only made the room look that much more decrepit. The metallic stench of blood and decay demoralized all the injured present, even the grizzled murderers, who sullenly brooded over the dreadfulness of their situation. Dirty cots littered the ground and moaned with the sullen cries of limp forms curled on the creaky cotton. The horrid backdrop seemed to remind the withered corporal of a field medic's tent, and a surge of pain-numbing adrenaline from his reminiscing mind put him at ease.

Agatha had done quite a number on Giroro's rugged exterior. The impact of her mace had badly dented his new pauldron, but the armor had done its job and his shoulder wound hadn't been reopened. However, the sovee tea Jeroro had given that morning him had all but worn off, leaving the corporal in agonizing pain from his previous (and new) injuries. His swollen face had the beginnings of a stunning shiner, compliments of one feisty Argean. He was beaten, bruised, and bloodied, and frankly, it was quite a feat that the weary solider was still fighting. In the course of a week, Giroro gone through more trauma than the last two years he had spent on Pekopon combined. He was just thankful the gunshot wound had been minor, if the laser discharge had gone through his shoulder joint he would have been immobilized for months.

He shifted in silent agony as he waited for the examiner, one thought lancing hotly through his mind. Why had Ari saved him? When the decision was left in his rival's hands and the crowd had all but abandoned their gladiator, Giroro had decided that he would have to fight his way to safety. The desperate corporal had even devised a strategy and escape route for the moment when Ari signed his death. However, those fated words were never unveiled. Why? Did the senator enjoy toying with him too much to hang up his puppet now? Or had Natsumi done something to change his mind? _"Natsumi…"_ her name gave such a bittersweet feeling, like the rich center of a roasted sweet potato. It was deplorable, no, absolutely sickening the beating she had undergone in response to his actions on the sand. Ari held his one true weakness and he boasted it proudly. It was exactly opposite as it had been on Cael's ship. Captain Fera had merely tricked the corporal into thinking his love was being tortured, whereas Ari brashly threw it in his face, leaving no lapse of judgment on Giroro's part.

_THWAP!_

The sound of wood smacking down onto the Keronian's crown echoed throughout the small area, alerting all the sullen warriors to Giroro's grumbling expression as he rubbed out the dull pain. "Stop daydreaming, boy! I swear, that froggin' head of yours is going to be the death of you!" Jeroro raved, his wooden cane waving frantically through the putrid air.

"_If you don't give me a damn concussion first…crazy old frog,"_ Giroro seethed inwardly, furiously scrubbing his tender head. Boy!? He wasn't a boy. He was old enough to be Natsumi's father, well, barely. Not that that was at all perverted or otherwise immoral…oh great, cue the headache.

Jeroro continued to rant, gently prodding the end of his cane into the contorted metal that had been his shoulder guard, "Just look at what you did to my pauldron! Kids these days, they take everything for granted. What do you expect me to do now? Hammer that out while I fix your busted anti-barrier? I lost all my winnings on that match! Ungrateful, impatient, reckless…"

"And let's not forget…INJURED!" Giroro finally blurted out, jerking the wooden baton from the old toad's hands. He had had enough. Every time he did something remotely wrong he was beaten, whether by his opponent, by his subconscious, or a withered old frog who couldn't even walk straight! Could he ever catch a break, or was he just doomed to be at the butt of everyone's joke forever?

Jeroro huffed, staring vehemently at his cane's captor. That horrible scowl crossed his face for only a second though, before he sighed heavily and gave a small chuckle, "You know…my wife, Darlala was a field medic," he started, turning his attention away from Giroro and his cane, "She once had to give me two-hundred stitches on the battlefield going entirely up my side. Her setup kind of reminded me of this. If you look _real_ close, you can still see the scar." Strange, Jeroro never talked about his wife; in fact, he had punished Giroro with pushups whenever he so much as brought up the subject. Why now was he so eager to talk about her? Also, he had never noticed the old toad having a scar. His skin was so wrinkly, that a scar would be impossible to see even if it did exist. Maybe if he looked real close, like Jeroro suggested…

Giroro craned his neck towards the golden Keronian, and examined his side scrupulously. At first he saw nothing, the harder he started at the frog's furrowed skin, the more he thought he could see something, peering from just behind a fold of flesh. As the corporal was lost in examining Jeroro's body, the elder seized the opportunity to snatch back his cane, delivering a smarting thump to his counterpart's skull…again, "Heh heh heh, boy you gotta' start using your head for more things than focusing on that girl of yours."

Giroro recoiled, his face scrunching up in a display of pain and anger. Again he was the end of another devious trick. He was about to retort, but what the old frog said actually struck him. Perhaps he did need to stop thinking so much about Natsumi. It had been getting him hurt a lot lately, however his sole focus in this mission was her rescue. Ignoring the thought of her now would just be pointless, and regulating them near impossible. He was a love-sick puppy around her and a lonely wolf when she was gone.

"Now come on," Jeroro started towards the door, his cane tapping rhythmically against the crusted ground, "You don't need to be here for a little bruised eye and some measly cuts. A little superglue is all you need."

Giroro sighed, _"Great…again with the glue…"_

* * *

><p>The tournament didn't cease as the corporal tended to his wounds and Jeroro scolded him for his antics. As Agatha left the sand, her head held high in a victorious display, another pair of gladiators walked to their deaths and the crowd continued to be enthralled by the bloody games. Ari sat high above them all, watching the riotous crowed with unmitigated glee. For the blissful enjoyment of his citizens ensure his votes for the upcoming election season. Tuning out the bickering of his two companions and the quivering of his useless advisor, the senator turned to his drenched ancilla, wine dripping from her crimson locks, and scrunched his face in disgust. She was a sight to behold, and not in a good way. Her hair had been mangled from the tumble she took when her master had struck her, and she wreaked of sugary booze. Her nice clothes were stained from the alcohol's teal hue and splotches of crystallized sugar crusted over her linen stola. The Galean clenched his nose to suppress his surfacing anger as he turned from the disarrayed woman, glaring towards Cicero instead.<p>

"Take her to get cleaned up. She's embarrassing me," he sneered, slouching lazily in his metal throne.

Cicero shakily nodded and turned to his boss' pet, who glared at him which just as much venom as Ari had, making the cowardly alien even more uneasy about his task. With all the time he had spent about the Vallokius manor, he saw how both resilient and reckless the young Pekoponian could be, and needless to say, it frightened him. Even then, as her amber orbs drove deeply into his quivering pupils, his heart lurched into his stomach and her dominating thundered in his direction. The two exited the skybox with the attendance of one of the senator's bodyguards, who followed them into the inside of the Arena.

Away from the stadium section, the coliseum was just like any other entertainment venue. It consisted of long halls that wrapped around the entire structure, leading to various doors that opened into different sections of the massive structure. Along these numerous halls and floors were concession stands, kiosks, and gambling outlets, where all the income from the tournament was made. The entire event was free to the people, so the profit tended to come from merchandising and sports betting. Children wearing Ragnarök shirts and carrying fake beam sabers were among the strangest occurrences Natsumi saw as she followed her two guides through the throng of people.

The crowd was so dense that it had passed her mind to make a mad dash for it; however multiple reasons constrained her movements. Where would she go? What would she do if she got away? Could she even manage such a feat? This was the first time she had been away from Ari's grasp, and feeling was overpowering. The immense amount of security posted around the entrances and exits was baffling, and the collar jangling around her neck publically marked her as a slave, making her dreams of escape near impossible. But there had to be something she could do. She knew she could take on Cicero, the poor boy would probably run away before putting up a fight, but the guard was another story. His entire figure radiated brutality and loyalty, like a hunting dog awaiting its master's command. His face plates were cracked and chipped, and lacked the luster of youth. The largest crack trailed down his cheek plate, just under his right eye, and reminded Natsumi of Giroro's scar. Giroro…if only she could see him now. Then it dawned on her; perhaps that was one thing she _could_ do.

She wouldn't be leaving the Arena, no, just delving into an area restricted only to gladiators and their sponsors. Cicero had permission to go there being the Arena announcer and the tournament hosts' advisor, and Natsumi was sure she could wrap him around her finger quite easily, "Cicero," she whispered harshly, careful not to attract the attention of their foreboding chaperon, "take me to see Giroro."

The young Galean's eyes widened as her severe tone echoed throughout his fragile mind. Ari already bossed him around enough; he didn't need his boss' trophy slave jerking his arm too. The repercussions of listening to her menacing demands would only end badly for him as he would be disobeying the senator's clear orders. That was a chance Cicero was not willing to take, despite the fact that meant standing up to the trying woman and forcing her back into her place. "Nooo…I caaan't," truthfully, Cicero sounded more whiny than challenging and his mandible plate quivered and chattered loudly as his eyes darted away from Natsumi's menacing form.

Natsumi's nostrils flared and her eyebrows furrowed as she glared up at the boyish alien. He wasn't much taller than her anyways, which made her angry display much more convincing as she was able to stare almost directly into his weary eyes. "If you don't, I'll tell Ari you did, and then you'll get in trouble anyways," she taunted, her hands grasping her hips firmly.

She wouldn't dare…would she? How evil was this girl? Cicero's following sigh made it sound almost as if he was crying as he solemnly hung his head, "O-Ok, but you have to stay on this side of the gate."

Gate? There was a gate? What was he, a ravenous hound caged back from the rest of the populace for fear he would slaughter them all? Well…that actually sounded rather probable given the right circumstances and unlimited ammunition. The three moved to a nearby service entrance and Cicero muttered something in Galean to make their watchdog stay outside as they receded into the underbelly of the Arena. It was dark and blistering hot, and the metallic scent of blood and sweat ruffed Natsumi's nose. The only light there was to guide their steps was given off by dimming overheads with flickering bulbs, and reluctant memories of old ghost stories made her shoulders mildly quake. This is where they kept them all, Natsumi thought as they began to descend a stairwell, the murderers and rapists, the fodder for the crowd's desires. Giroro was down here too, braving these vicious mongrels for her sake. Though she knew he could handle himself, or at least she thought he could. For he had fell so hard against that last female opponent that for a split second, as the Argean's boot dug into her corporal's head, she thought that he would not get up.

As they reached the bottom of the stairwell, a bared, prison-like door blocked their path and two Galean sentries stood just on the other side. Cicero again sputtered something in his native tongue, and one of the guards quickly left, hopefully to retrieve her busted defender. Sure enough, only a few moments passed before two Keronians came into sight, both hobbling on bad legs with tired glints hanging heavily in their eyes.

"Natsumi?!" the red one called as he broke out of his slow walk and sprung towards the gate, grasping onto the metal bars with deranged delight.

"Giroro!" she answered back, a large smile uplifting a small scratch she had received with Ari's unprecedented beating and teal wine dripping from her fiery mane, "How are your wounds?"

For a moment, Giroro was speechless, amazed by the close proximity he was to his love. He could reach out and touch her, if only the anguish in his aching arm would subside. He was not about to show her his pain while she stood before him with that heinous scratch laceration that surely must be hurting her, "They're just battle scratches. Nothing some medical tape won't patch up," he said stoically, turning his face slightly away so she could not pry his remark, "There's just one more fight until I can get you out of here. You can hold out till then, right?"

The abuse she had endured from Ari's strike had forced him to reconsider her safety in the coming days. If he wasn't in such a damaged condition, he would have just knocked out the guards looming over them, put a plasma cartridge right into the shaking adivsor's head, and made a run for it. But the searing pain and the bloodlust eating at his thoughts as he wished so desperately to feed that pompous senator a grenade urged for her response to be a positive one.

"Of course," she muttered, touching his good arm lightly, "Giroro?"

The Keronian's face instantly turned a brilliant shade of red at her touch, and he began to stumble over his words, "Y-yes, Natsumi?"

Leaning as close as she could to the metal bars, she kissed the top of his charred hat lightly, and whispered into his ear, "Go get them."

Her lips had graced his body, and though he had not experienced how moist and soft they could have been against his skin, it did not prevent the feeling of euphoria from pervading his senses, turning him utterly limp, inside and out. He felt his knees begin to buckle, and his face looked as if it were about to explode and steam pour out of his ears in delight, "Y-yes ma'am!" he loudly boomed as he gave Natsumi a stalwart salute, the only action that would effectively prevent him from passing out in a love-struck coma.

The moment did not last long though, for Cicero gave an impatient tug at Natsumi's shoulder, bringing their time to an end. Certainly, Ari would grow anxious with their late return, and he hadn't even achieved his actual assignment to get his Ancilla cleaned up to a presentable degree. A low growl escaped the slave's throat as she stood, and the quivering Galean quickly recoiled his hand from her shoulder. She didn't want to leave Giroro, but she knew she couldn't stay any longer, for the same reasons as Cicero had silently conveyed. And so, they left the two Keronians to their caged off hallway, a small solemn frown melting away the cheerful atmosphere as they disappeared up the flight of steps.

"Not to be a downer," Jeroro hummed behind the delusional corporal, who was still lost in his passionate dreams, "but you do know no loser has ever fought Ragnarök, right?"

No loser? But…Giroro was a loser. He had fought Agatha and technically lost, despite having practically given the victory to the feisty Argean. This simple statement tore Giroro from his Natsumi-filled daydreams, as she suddenly disappeared with the acknowledgement that he wouldn't get to fight the Arena's champion, thus not winning the tournament, thus not facing Ari in the end. "What?! I have to fight him!" he bellowed, yelling at the old toad as if he were the one holding him back from his love.

"Calm down. There's still one chance you have left. It just means we have to go see her," the golden frog croaked as he continued to hobble down the hallway, forcing Giroro to catch up with his slow pace.

"Her? Who is her?"

A wheezing laugh echoed through the narrow passage as Jeroro realized his companion's ignorance, "_Her_. Fate."

* * *

><p><em><strong>OHMYGODWHATTHEHELLIT'SFINALLYDONE! XD So after ANOTHER long vacation, I give you this. Take it and rejoice, for it is the holidays and this is my gift to you. For those of you who actually read my statement on my profile and realized that I made a formal announcement stating for how long I would be gone (instead of annoying me through pms…) you might have noticed I have another story. <strong>_

_**FEAR NOT! It will not take away too much time from me writing this one. It just means that I'm going to have to alternate between writing chapters for this story, and that one. Two stories at one? Have you gone mad, Love? Yes, I'm crazy, but you're worth it. SO, you should go check that out after you **__**REVIEW**__** this chapter, especially if you like the game the other story is based off of. **_

_**With that all said, WHATTHEHELL!? Giroro is going to meet F.A.T.E? Why yesh, he is. Mwhaha, and the plot thickens! **_


	31. Senior Moment

**C****HAPTER**** 31: ****S****ENIOR**** M****OMENT**

After seeing Natsumi at the Arena and nearly meeting death, Giroro and Jeroro went back home, if that's what the one could honestly call the little back street joint. The corporal was grateful for any place with a warm bed and good memories and Jeroro's little shop almost fit the description…_almost_. He gladly considered his tiny red tent in the back of the Hinata's lawn home before his father's place on Keron. However, Jeroro's store/apartment did not quite live up to either of these. He crashed on a couch and his dreams were nightmares of a galling subconscious. Certainly, a cushy sleeping bag, sweet smelling fire, and soft cat curling at your toes was much more deserving of being called home than this old place, with its constant noise from distant emergency hovercraft sirens and the annoying wheezing and coughing of one old Keronian. But it would have to do. Because it would be here that Giroro would reside until he successfully saved Natsumi. It would be here that that wheezing Keronian would treat his fresh wounds and check his old ones. And it would be here that he would mentally prepare himself for any trials tossed his way.

As promised in the Arena's infirmary, Jeroro sealed the gladiator's few cuts with hobby glue and lathered paste on his blackened eye. He changed his old bandages and examined his plasma shot wound and the laceration that had nearly caused the solider to bleed out on a thousand dollar carpet. They were both healing nicely, well, as nicely as they could be without the much needed rest and recuperation that Giroro refused to allow his body to have. And all while the golden toad worked on him, his patient drank Sovee tea to ignore the searing pain pulsating through his entire left frame.

"I don't know how you're going to do it," the old frog croaked as he winded his medical tape around Giroro's torso, "But if you really want to meet _Her_, then there's some things you'll need to know."

"Like?" Giroro winced, trying to keep his face as stoic as possible as he slurped the disgustingly bittersweet beverage and endured his counterpart's pokes and prods.

"Well, it's a long, long story, so bear with me," Jeroro sighed, finishing his work and moving to sit on the squishy couch. The aged cushions nearly devoured half his body as he sank between the seats, and he took a long drink of his herbal tea and set his cane against the arm rest before beginning his tale, the corporal sitting on the ground before him as if he were a grandson, listening to old war stories just before bedtime, "As you probably already know from all the plaques on my walls, I was a Warrant Officer in the Keronian military. My platoon's specialty was recon and special operations. We were the ones that would gather intelligence on the enemy and relay that information back to the foremost infantry unit, or carry out covert operations too dangerous for normal regiments. We were the action before any action began, and I was froggin' good at my job. I was their tech expert, and created all the technology my assassin and infantry brothers would utilize in their missions. Recon drones, stealth systems, hacking instruments, you name it, I made it."

"_That explains his experience with Keronian technology. It sounds like he was the Kululu of his platoon. Except a lot less crazy,"_ Giroro thought to himself as he continued to listen to the old frog's story, grateful that the medicine was helping his pain to subside.

"I fell in love with our field medic, Darlala. She was beautiful; with radiant orange skin and eyes like a Pekoponian sunset, and for a medic she was unbelievably clumsy. Always covered in bandages Darlala was," Jeroro's eyes twinkled with fondness, "it made her feel useless sometimes, that trait, so she wore a sage-colored male's cap to make her look a bit tougher in spite of those bandages. We never saw her as weak or undeserving of our respect though. She was like the mother of our little platoon, fixing our bumps and bruises, our meals...heheh, she even fixed our broken relationships. Maybe she couldn't fix her clumsiness, but she sure could fix everything else! And she was brilliant. Made stronger remedies out of the local flora surrounding our encampment than any fancy antibiotics our C.O's gave us. That story I taunted you with back at the Arena? It wasn't entirely tiger horseshit. I really did have to get 200 stitches one time, but her hands were so nimble I barely felt a thing and it healed remarkably well. She's the one that taught me about Sovee too. We always used to carry around a canteen of the disgusting crap just in case.

"Anyways, to make a long story shorter, we eventually married and settled down in this hellhole, though looking back at it now we should have stayed on Keron. But she loved the twin suns and the strong tradition that Galeans hold so close. In the end, I want to say the lack of humidity was what weakened her, though the best doctors will say it was her illness. I don't know though, the dry air has given me a horrible cough. Keronians weren't made for this planet. Good thing you didn't come during summer," Jeroro half-heartedly laughed.

Now that he thought of it, ever since Giroro had been on this foreign planet he hadn't been at his best. At first he had thought it was his injury on Cael's ship, but as his fights in the Arena wore on, his energy had been fading and he had been doing progressively worse. Could some of that be attributed to the immense dry spell the moon-colony was enduring? With only the small patches of private forests to curtail the heat from the intense twin suns, the salty sweat from the midday heat was the only thing that seemed to aid the Keronian solider.

After shifting a bit on the frog-eating sofa, the old toad resumed his regaling, yet depressing tale, "She really began to decline around the time I was finishing helping the Cassidian Senate create their newly renovated Arena's artificial intelligence. I'm the one that gave F.A.T.E all her code, so I got to name her. Thought it was rather clever, heh. At the time, Fate was the most advanced engine this side of the Kappa Space Nebula, capable of completely independent thought and action, but the most remarkable feat was her fully functional conscious. She could have been a froggin' weapon of mass destruction, but we were making her to be a sports entertainment score keeper. A bit overkill I thought, but the Galeans loved their games.

"About a month left in production, I knew my soulmate was going to die. So I created an invention, a 'graybox' I called it, capable of holding my Darlala's memories and playing them back like endless home movies. And though I wasn't very old at the time, I knew I would eventually forget some of those precious moments and I couldn't bear the thought of somehow forgetting her face, or the gentle sound of her voice. It wasn't until Fate was completed and Darlala had passed that I realized how frail sanity really was." Jeroro's words began to choke, and for a moment Giroro could have sworn he saw a tear glimmering down the elder's cheek before it was hastily pushed away, "I…snapped. I was maddened with grief, and saw an opportunity to immortalize my wife in the work I had completed. I don't expect you to understand, but I was young and angry, and if there was just a sliver of a chance that I could…'save' her, then damn it, I was going to try.

"I encoded all my wife's memories from the graybox into Fate's programming, in some foolhardy attempt to overwrite eight months of code and reanimate Darlala as a fully sentient, virtual being. It worked, but only until I tried to delete the original AI's software. She somehow turned on and cursed me for trying to 'kill' her, for her creator attempting to replace her with a resurrection of his deceased wife. She was…jealous, and it infuriated her, so she mockingly read my new data as a virus, and began to purge all my Darala's memories, the last bit of tangible testament I had of her in the universe. I begged for her to stop, hell, I pleaded to the froggin' machine, but she just laughed and said the last thing I would remember of my wife was her screaming as she erased her from this existence," weak and wheezing laughter softly churned from Jeroro's throat as he forced himself not to break composure in front of his guest, and for a moment the near maniacal hilarity radiating from the withered frog made Giroro believe that he had truly lost it. The stalwart solider forced back awkward sniffles to keep himself from sobbing, hiding his compassion for the sad tale behind a strained look of resolve, and taking a large swig of the horridly bitter tea to pucker his face and further stray from the tailspin of despair the atmosphere was slowly succumbing to.

"Heheh, so I did the only thing I could do to stop her. I synthesized them, combining the two intelligences, my wife and my work into one being. That…thing in the bottom of the Arena…it may look and speak like her, it may have what few memories I could salvage, but Fate corrupted my wife's image. She used Darlala's memories to become fully aware of our mortal nature, to become a fully sentient entity. Fate is capable of understanding emotions, whether they are merciful or otherwise. I forged her a soul. And although she does not breathe, and blood does not course through her wires, she's as every bit as living, and as dangerous, as you can imagine. Heh, so that's my story. I didn't bore you did I?" Jeroro laughed, carefully wedging himself out of the crevice his couch had dug him into. He grabbed his cane and waddled to his closet, picking out a brown briefcase from the bottom and lugging it back into the main room. As he unfastened the golden clasps, the top burst open and an eerie iridescent hue extended into the room, its magnificent light bouncing off the walls and it swirling creating a vortex in which seemed to wish to suck everything into its opulence. The old toad reached his hand down into the wormhole and it disappeared, swallowed in the deep colors.

Low grunts echoed throughout the room before he finally jerked his arm back out and forcefully relocked the aged briefcase. In his hand he held a simple electronic card, in which he shoved under his hat as he scooted the extra-dimensional portal back into his closet, "Well, let's go before the sun goes down, heheh. I'd like to have dinner before midnight," he wheezed and started down the stairwell. Giroro limply followed behind, his mind still reminiscing on the sad tale his host had spoken, and the foretold danger awaiting them both. Jeroro was going through desperate lengths to help him, a complete stranger, delving back into a painful past and tossing his withered body into harm's way for someone in need. He was the epitome of a good Samaritan, and the solider would not allow his generosity to be squandered. He would complete his mission, no matter what trials this capricious super computer decided to test him with, and let the elderly Keronian to do something fate would not allow him to accomplish in his youth—save a loved one.

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><p><em><strong>T_T Poor Jeroro. Oh, I uploaded pictures of both Darlala and Fate onto my profile. They're so cute ^_^. REVIEW! <strong>_


	32. Galea and its Government

_A/N: The following is not a chapter, despite the chapter number which only serves as to not throw off FanFiction's chapter numbering system. It is a reference document detailing the government of the Galean people, so that readers who wish to know more about the untold lore of this planet may see exactly how Ari Vallokius ties into his government as an official. It details the history of the planet, is defining disaster and geography.  
><em>

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><p><strong>Chapter 32: An Insight to the Galean People and their Government<strong>

Galea, home of the militaristic, reptilian alien race known as the Galeans, is the 14th planet of the Kappa Space Nebula. It has one moon which is also a widely inhabited colony, Cassidia, and two suns, Solis 1 & 2. The twin suns produce a relatively dry, savanna-type climate on the majority of the planet, though there are tropical, subtropical, and mediterranean climate zones, a portion of which is now uninhabitable frozen wastelands due to a catastrophic natural disaster. It is a member of the Galactic Council, though they hold independent planetary rights on certain cultural aspects such as the legality of slavery and chattel trade. The planet runs off of a 24-hour time system, with 13 months each consisting of 28 days with the exception of the second month which has 29. Its calendar-years are counted with the epoch "AGC" standing for "After the Great Comet", after a detrimental natural disaster that nearly extinguished the entire Galean home world and its peoples.

Over half a millennium ago, a massive comet collided with the Galea, a cataclysmic event which killed nearly a third of the entire planet's population. When the comet entered the atmosphere, it broke into thousands of gargantuan ice chunks, which collided into various parts of the planet. Continent-sized plumes of soot covered the sky and blocked out Galea's twin suns which created an abandoned tundra, while tsunamis and other natural calamities caused a large part of Galea to become dilapidated. The comet was named the "Gros Crinita" and ever since has become a staple symbol in Galean culture. The symbol of the Galean peoples is a shooting comet with twin curved sabers in the foreground, as is mentioned on the pendant Ari wears on his shirt collar.

Galea's government is an Imperial Republic ruled by a parliamentary dictatorship. Because its vast empire consists of many planets, it is broken into **territories**, with each territory being maintained by an individual **senate**. However, the size of the empire is so expansive that any one territory can be too much for one senate to handle, and the senate of that territory can break their land even further into **regions. **Thecity-planet, Cassidia, is one such example, and their regions are called "stratums" which there are fifty of. **Magistrates** are elected to overlooking a single region, and maintain urban municipal administration such as police departments, community centers, local businesses, etc. Whenever a situation arises that a magistrate cannot take care of himself, they will bring this issue to their supervising senate.

**Territorial Senates:**

Each territorial senate is comprised of three segments: a **Representative Council**, a **High Council**, and a **Consul**. The Senate itself is a territorial parliament whose function is representation, legislation, and parliamentary control (i.e., hearings, inquiries). They bring matters they cannot control themselves to the Imperial Senate. Senates control the enactment of new regional statutes, the carrying out of capital punishment, maintaining finances, and territorial administration. They are headed by a Consul, whose main function is executive, as they oversee the actions of the Senate.

The Representative Council is the most delicate of the three. It is comprised of **representatives**, who maintain the city. Each represents one of the 12 **Houses** on Galea. For example, the Representative of Treasury would orchestrate tax collection, the Representative of Defense would secure their territory's homeland defenses, and the Representative of Commerce would oversee all corporations within their territory. All problems they may encounter are solved by the High Council and its Consul. Their manner of conduct is considered delicate because they not only have to answer to the High Council, but also to their individual houses. The Representative Council does not actually commune with itself. They only gather to discuss their problems with the High Council. To be a candidate for a representative, one must first gain the blessing of the Praetor that heads the house they are campaigning for; this is to make sure they can represent them accurately if elected. Each representative on the council serves four-year terms, and is allowed to be reelected only three times consecutively.

The High Council is comprised of **senators** and the Consul. They oversee everything that happens within their territory, unlike the Representative Council whose reach is more concentrated. They solve issues the Representative Council brings them, and may outreach to the representatives when they wish something to be done. For example, to hold Senator Vallokius' gladiatorial tournament within the Arena, he must obtain a document from the Representative of Commerce, Representative Balbus, in order to orchestrate such a large profiteering event. He must also be granted permission by the Arena to reserve this venue, as well as permission from the local magistrate of that particular stratum. However, none of these are likely to turn down his request, as he _is_ a senator, and therefore has more latitude than all of them. Senators who sit on the High Council are elected by the people, and serve six-year terms and may serve as many consecutive terms as they are reelected for. Each senate consists of an X-number of senators depending on territorial population. Cassidia has a small senate, despite the large amount of people which live there because most of the citizens are not permanent residents since it's a large tourist/vacation spot.

The Consul is the head of a territory's senate. He oversees the High Council and reports directly to the Imperial Senate on the territory's wellbeing. His is elected by the High Council itself, and remains in position until the council deem him unable to maintain his duties, which at that time they will move for a "vote of no confidence" to remove him. Only if the vote is unanimous will it be subject for approval by the Imperial Senate. Consuls report to the Imperial Senate in the capital of Galea at least once a year. There has never been a female consul.

**The Imperial Senate:**

At the center of the government, is what is called the **Imperial Senate**, headed by the **Primarch**. Unlike the territorial senates, the Imperial Senate has only two parts: the Imperial Senate, and the Primarch.

The Imperial Senate consists of senators called **Praetors**. They convene on all activities that happen within the capital city and their empire. They solve issues brought to them by their Consuls who, as aforementioned, control individual territories. There are eleven Praetors, one **Hand of the Primarch**, and one Primarch, all who make up the Imperial Senate. Each Praetor controls a house, which is a department of the government that compartmentalizes a certain area of law. The first three houses of government are the largest and most powerful, dealing directly with aspects of the government; they are: the Treasury, the House of Defense (or Military), and the Tribunal. The other 8 houses deal primarily with the people or corporate policies. In order to make sure their individual house is being represented accurately within their territories, Praetors may send a **house** **ambassador**, to overview a regional representative branch. The Imperial Senate has the final say in regarding the dissolving of Consuls, control the enactment of new imperial statutes, the power to declare war and peace, create or dissolute alliances, and maintain details of foreign policy. They are elected by the Primarch personally, and sit in the senate indefinitely.

The head of the Imperial Senate is the emperor, or Primarch. He is a dictator elected by his Praetors, which is a redundancy and a flaw in their system because he elects his Praetors who then elect him. The Imperial Senate was traditionally supposed to act without the need of a permanent Primarch, who was only elected and given temporary dictatorship in times of great need. However, when elected, the Primarch overthrew this old way and replaced the Praetors with his own, ones that wouldn't turn against him so he could rule indefinitely, thus beginning an imperial dynasty (Julius Caesar, anyone?). He is also the Commander-in-Chief of the entire Galean military. The Hand of the Primarch is his advisor and leader of the Imperial Senate. Although technically the Primarch leads the senate, he typically does not go to all meetings of lesser importance, sending his Hand to act in his stead.

**The Houses of the Praetors:**

The Houses of the Praetors are departments of the government that compartmentalizes governmental agencies while ensuring one Praetor does not gain too much power. These houses are the basis for all Galean law, and are upheld both on the homeworld, and its territories. The first three houses are seen as holding the main power of the empire. These three make and enforce laws and control economical stability. They are:

1.** House of Defense** (Galean Military): is charged with coordinating and supervising all agencies and functions of the government concerned directly with imperial security and the Galean armed forces. They also institute all veterans' affairs and ensure they receive benefits. This house is headed by the Primarch's top general, with the military being directly under the control of the Primarch.

2.** House of Treasury**: produces all Galean currency, ensures a proper transaction rate, collects taxes, and manages the empire's deficit. They pay all the government's bills, manage imperial finances, supervise banks and thrift institutions, and advice on domestic and international financial, monetary, economic, trade and tax policy.

3.** House of the Tribunal**: is responsible for the enforcement of the law and administration of justice. All courts systems, police, and prisons outside of military control are overseen by this house. They set public law, while the House of Defense enforces it.

4.** House of Assimilation**: is responsible for the management and conservation of most imperial land and natural resources, the administration of programs relating to territorial affairs, and to immigration and citizenship. They oversee all laws involving chattel trade and interact with the Galactic Council for reservation of this right.

5.** House of Productivity:** is responsible for developing and executing imperial policy on farming, agriculture, and food. It aims to meet the needs of farmers and ranchers, promote agricultural trade and production, work to assure food safety, protect natural resources, and foster rural communities to end hunger on Galea and its territories.

6.** House of Commerce:** is responsible for creating an infrastructure that promotes economic growth, technological competitiveness, and sustainable development. Among its tasks are gathering economic and demographic data for business and government decision-making, issuing patents and trademarks, and helping to set industrial standards.

7.** House of Labor**: is responsible for occupational safety, wage and hour standards, unemployment and insurance benefits, re-employment services, and some economic statistics. Its purpose is to foster, promote, and develop the welfare of the wage earners, job seekers, and retirees of the Galean Empire. It aims to improve working conditions, advance opportunities for profitable employment, and assure work-related benefits and rights.

8.** House of Health and Life Services**: is responsible for protecting the health of all Galeans and other imperial citizens, and providing essential life services. They maintain all health services, such as the institution of hospitals, medical and life insurance policies, and the licensure of medical personnel. They oversee and collect data on the health of all Galeans to track and dispel epidemics quickly and have the power to enact quarantines when necessary.

9.** House of Private and Urban Development**: develops and executes policies on housing and metropolises. They set building codes, pass construction policies, and oversee territorial and planetary development.

10.** House of Transportation**: ensures a fast, safe, efficient, accessible, and convenient transportation system that meets vital imperial interests and enhances the quality of life. They maintain all transportation systems, such as space trains, ship licensure, spaceports, and public transits.

11.** House of Energy**: is concerned with imperial policies regarding energy and safety in the handling of nuclear material. Its responsibilities include solar panel production, nuclear reactor production, energy conservation, energy-related research, radioactive waste disposal, and domestic energy production.

12.** House of Education**: primarily functions to establish policies for administering and coordinating most imperial education policies. It collects data on schools and enforces imperial educational laws regarding privacy, civil rights, and curriculum. They work closely with the House of Defense to foster productive males that will serve the state after graduation when they turn 18.

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><p><em><strong>I have been swamped with a busy, busy schedule ever since school started back, with little time to actually work on this fic. I'm not ignoring it, I just have no actual time to work on it, so while you all patiently wait for the next chapter (whenever that comes) I give you this little document I worked hard on outlining the details of the Galean government. <strong>_

_**PS: I was very saddened by the fact that I only got two reviews for my last chapter. I realize I take long, long breaks in between chapters, but that should mean that with every new update you all are so excited for the new one that you give me positive reinforcement through meaningful reviews that boost me into instantly beginning on the next one. Just saying. :P  
><strong>_


	33. By Way of Fate

**C****HAPTER**** 33: B****Y ****W****AY**** OF ****F****ATE**

It was late on the city-moon of Cassidia. With diminishing light, the twin suns bled vivid rays against the smog-filled sky, which was far too thick for the soft star-light to penetrate. Even though they had set, leaving only the silhouette of the Galean's distant home world in the gray slate of space, it was still as bright and hot as day. Millions of lights from local shops, lavish casinos, and seedy brothels produced a glowing halo around the colony, one which made it shine as brilliant as a star, and gave hope to all who looked upon its shining aura. And while all that sounded desirable and opulent, the truth of the matter was that Cassidia and its occupants were no less predictable than any other citizen in Galean space. Nor were they any more banal than their allies in distant systems or their enemies across the universe. And if there was one entity that knew this better than anyone or anything, it resided in the 3rd stratum of the city, underneath 100 feet of rock and sand, built in the center of one of the colony's oldest and cherished landmarks, and housed in a metal tomb.

Her name was Fate, and for decades she had woven threads of destiny into a tapestry of logical chaos reflecting the desires of others. She had read the future a thousand times and acted on nature's demands. Her voice had slain hundreds and spared few. And though those she had freed walked off the blood soaked sand rejoicing in her name without knowing exactly who their cries praised, nor she could not feel the bittersweet embrace of their predictable gratitude. For morality, at its core, was as understandable as the simplest mathematical equation, despite how complex those living with it will it to be. The common slave especially, whose life was not much different than a pig awaiting the slaughterhouse, was among the easiest creature to comprehend. In its most basic element, their lives were ruled by the constant day-to-day anxieties which populated the majority of mortal's minds. However, rather than a government or church that mandated their citizen's actions through vague jargon and biased punishments, a slave knew who their god was and had felt his wrath firsthand. Yet even though they were unashamed to have their lives be subjugated by fear, when they stepped onto the Arena's sand and Fate's cameras and lights zoomed on their petrified facades, there was that tiny glimmer of hope that promised for an interesting spectacle.

And yet there was a fray in her colorful tapestry, an error in her flawless equation that had shattered all of her predetermined understandings in an action that had happened in only a fraction of a second. In her lonely catacombs she played and replayed this travesty again on her giant screens, dissecting and reevaluating the seemingly menial event that had passed over the majority of the spectator's view during today's games. The Red Defender, a gladiator whom she had not computed into her predetermined outcomes, had _intentionally_ lost his match. Originally, she had foreseen Claudius as the winner of her tournament, but this newcomer had tailed through his matches like a comet and in the process had blown some of her idealism. His uncanny chivalry was an unfortunate twist she could never have expected and one that had made her question her very existence. For if she could not account for a random variable, however harmless that tiny frog-like variable was, than what kind of supercomputer was she?

Commonly, there were only four motivations for which a gladiator fought: money, fame, freedom, or a swift death. Even Claudius, who had died for his family, fit into these simple categories, but not this ambiguous Keronian, this "Giroro". If he fought for money, fame, or freedom than why lose on purpose? And if death was his wish, why not jump in front of Agatha's mace rather than give her the victory after defeating her? It was such a foreign concept to her that until she had seen the sheer horror and astonishment in his eyes, she almost mistook his motive for death. In the moment Senator Vallokius had struck his slave a cruel blow, everything became quite clear to Fate. The red Keronian's fighting style had changed. He acted more instinctual, channeling pure rage and lament over such a common occurrence on this world.

"Love," Fate chimed, a faint smirk pulling up her holographic features, "He's in love."

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><p>The entire hovercar ride to the Arena had been silent as both Giroro and his elderly companion contemplated the near future. The corporal had already decided he wouldn't allow a mere computer to dictate his actions. He would fight Ragnarök, and he would win, even if he had to destroy the hunk of machinery blocking his path. Honestly, how dangerous could a simple computer be? He had fought rogue robots and training AI's before, and surely this "super" computer wouldn't be any different. Machines were predictable, and there was nothing that couldn't be solved with the brute force of a gun or hand grenade, he was certain this time would be no exception.<p>

After parking in the vast, empty garage of the closed Arena—which still radiated that heart-pounding allure despite the vacancy of its interior—the two Keronians slowly made their way to a nearby service elevator. Giroro was actually surprised that Jeroro drove as well as he did in his age with one bum leg, but then again many things about the old frog was surprising. With wheezing exasperation, Jeroro produced the electronic card he had snatched from his home from underneath his hat and swiped it through the reader by the elevator shaft. A small green light blinked in acknowledgement, and the lift's doors opened. They stepped inside and the golden toad pressed the bottom button with the tip of his cane before the shaft began a slow decent into the depths of the coliseum.

"You know," Jeroro started as his feet steadily shifted unsteadily, "I didn't actually think that key card would work. The last time I went down here, you probably weren't even a thought in your parent's minds, heh. I guess Fate still likes me," he sarcastically cackled.

Giroro could feel his eye beginning to twitch at the elder's nonchalant behavior, "You mean you based this entire plan on a whim?" he seethed, disgusted at the lack of strategy placed behind their infiltration. What kind of ex-recon solider did things on a hunch anyways? The corporal sighed and crossed his arms, shifting his attention to the mind-numbing elevator music playing blissfully in the background.

Jeroro shrugged, fishing around again under his hat until he pulled out a small, golden skull pendant, "Oh, I almost forgot. I fixed it a few days ago, I just kept forgetting to give it back to ya'," he said as Giroro took it with a soft 'thank you' and waiting for him to attach it to his slightly charred hat before speaking again, "You are going to pay me for repairing that, right? I mean, since you made me lose all my winnings on that lousy last fight…"

Pay? Keroro hadn't paid Giroro his allowance in nearly a month, and he had rushed off the planet in such a hurry that money had been the last thing on his mind. Then again, he could just write it off on his next expense report, but what would the Keron Army say about an unsanctioned receipt to a small electronics store half-way across space from Pekopon? Before Giroro could come up with some lame excuse to save himself from the haggard glare he could feel boring a hole through his newly fixed Anti-barrier, the elevator rang with a loud chime and came to a stop. Whew, saved by the bell.

The doors parted to reveal a circular room with walls encased in dark gray metal. The only light in the relatively small space came from a few dimly lit yellow scones embedded into the sides and a couple rings of bright blue LED floor strips that tracked around a raised central structure situated atop a set of circular slab steps. Hanging bundles of thick wires and suspended blank plasma screens connected around the middle platform, presented like an altar to some modernized deity. Optical keyboards and other various control-like objects wrapped around the beveled edge of the table-like fixture, and a low frequency mechanized hum pulsated off the metal walls like a soundboard. As the two Keronians stepped out of the lift and its doors shut behind them, an eerily blue light shot up from a circular telescopic device in the center of the middle core. From the light, a face, then an arm, and slowly an entire body morphed from the brilliant rays, the features overrun with visible binary coding. The hologram's body was that of a life-sized female Keronian wearing a male's style cap with a Star of Life emblem and belly sign.

"Jeroro, you came back. It has been so long—exactly 14,335 days, 21 hours, 34 minutes, and 41.706 seconds since we last spoke. How is your leg?" Fate smiled, stepping off her platform. Her features were soft, her tone sincere despite a snarky glint in her code-filled eyes, and besides her blue holographic appearance and clearly mechanical voice, she looked and sounded exactly like Jeroro's late wife, Darlala, and it tore at his heartstrings.

"It still hurts," the elderly Keronian seethed in a tone Giroro had never heard his counterpart produce. The corporal glanced down at Jeroro's cane as he gripped the crook, the wood squealing under the tension.

"I tried to apologize, but you ran out of my chamber raving about what a monster I was," Fate aloofly recounted as she strolled closer to her guests on the far side of her chamber, stopping when she stood arms length from her creator. Her smile suddenly faded, and her words turned corrosive as she spat, "But at least I am not the monster that tried to kill his own wife."

Jeroro swung his cane furiously through Fate's holographic face, and the impact blurred her projected image, "You're not my wife!"

"Technically…"

"Okay, that's enough!" Giroro yelled as a plasma rocket launcher materialized in his grasp, compliments of one new anti-barrier device. Ah, it was good to be able to do that again, "You see this? This is a KRN PPG-211—a fully laser guided plasma propelled grenade launcher. And this," a ball of superheated plasma screamed as it rocketed out of the weapon's mouth, tearing through Fate's hologram and colliding with the far wall at the back of the room. A plume of dust and smoke filled the air as the explosion resolved, shaking the room and causing the computer's projection to sputter and blur. When the cloud dispersed, a large charred dent in the far wall and one extremely pissed off super-computer was all that was left to discern a weapon had just discharged in the room, making Giroro reconsider how reinforced these walls really were, "Is just a taste of what this baby can do. The next one is going right through your wiring. So I suggest you listen to what I have to say and stop hassling my friend before I turn you into a hunk of scrap metal."

When Fate's image finally refocused, she extended her hand towards the weapon and allowed her incorporeal limb to pass through its exterior, instantly short-circuiting the electronics within. The electrical surge caused Giroro to drop the now dysfunctional cannon, and Fate simply laughed as she cynically scoffed, "You are a daring mortal. But I already know what you want, and the answer is no. I will not allow for an unaccounted for variable to ruin my predictions, again. I am flawless. I am infinite, and you will not change that."

This computer was really starting to piss him off. He had just gotten his new toy back, and then she just breaks his gun with a wave of her hand. Giroro shot a glare back to his older counterpart, who seemed to be staring off into deep thought over Fate's remark towards him. He hadn't even seemed to notice that an explosion had just gone off right beside him. Eye twitching, Giroro turned back to the hologram, shaking his fist at it as he yelled, "I don't give a damn what you are. Just cut the crap and let me fight the champion so I can—"

"Your incapacity for understanding is inconsequential. You are a variable, an unknown and previously uncontrollable value in which I had no prior knowledge of. You broke my formula; you killed my winner; you cannot understand the trouble you have caused me. But now I am in control again, because you wasted your victory, and for what—some Pekoponian named Natsumi Hinata?"

The corporal's steel eyes shot open as fast as a precision-placed plasma round sinking into its target's forehead from the barrel of a sniper rifle situated half a mile away, "Na-Natsumi?! How do you know about her!? Answer me!" his voice bellowed, dreading the fact he couldn't simply bombard the snarky ray of light with his guns.

And yet the hologram simply smirked at his fury, "Inconsequential, but if you must know, I simply hacked into the Cassidian House of Assimilation's slave logs and back-traced her image after noticing her collar while I was watching recordings of your match." Slowly, Fate's smirk seemed to fade as she mulled over the expressions of her guests. Giroro, whose rage had him zeroed in on her person didn't bother her as much as the other Keronian in the room, who since his outburst had been too quiet for her liking. However, upon mentioning her journey into the government's records, the old frog's attention did seem to shift towards their conversation as he was reminded with the power of the technology he had created, and this simple acknowledgement of her actions seemed to raise the AI's demeanor, however slight.

She continued, "You fight for love. This I have discerned from observing you. You clutch onto your own destruction with the idea that it will save you, yet you are void of any self-righteous or suicidal emotions. Since my installation I have not witnessed a contender as yourself."

"Which is why I need to win. I have to save her."

"Perhaps…perhaps you are worthy of a second chance. You mortals can be driven to extremes by the notion of love, extremes that even I cannot fully comprehend. It is a self-destructive and counter-productive measure to go to such lengths on the mere whim that another might see you favorably, and yet I am faced with it again." As she spoke, Fate's vision was locked onto her creator as if it was he who she spoke to, remembering how far he had tried to go to reclaim his Darlala.

"Just tell me what I need to do," Giroro answered, his fists tightening as he restrained himself from becoming aggravated at this cryptic computer, again.

"I…have memories of a past life that I cannot feel. I know what love is. I have witnessed what it does to you mortals. I have seen it a thousand times in my head, lived it over and over, and yet I cannot feel the sensation. Allow me to live this emotion through your memories, show me that this _love_ is worthy of my approval, and then I'll grant your request."

"How—"

"Wait!" Jeroro exclaimed, pulling the attention of both figures in the room as the golden toad broke his silence, "You could kill him!"

Fate laughed, "He says he's willing to die anyways to save his loved one. Do you not remember feeling the same?"

The old toad hobbled closer to Fate, his bushy eyebrows caving as he tried to plead with his creation, "He's foolish and young. _I_ was foolish and young. I shouldn't have forced Darlala upon you. I shouldn't have tried to delete you, or merged you two to save my dignity. This is between you and me. Leave him out of this!"

"Your apologies are forty years too late. I have lived with this mind for too long without feeling any of the emotions I remember. Do you know what that is like?!" she screeched, her voice releasing a high pitched electronically frequency through the air that caused the frogs to momentarily cup their ears to endure the horrid sound.

"What the hell are you two talking about?" Giroro interrupted, slowly taking his hands from his head, "Jeroro, no offense, but if doing whatever she's talking about will allow me to save Natsumi, then I don't care what I have to do." It was true. He'd go to Hell and back for this woman, and if this computer was about to create a virtual reality of just that, then so be it.

"He is referring to my graybox program. It is the same one that allowed his wife's memories to be uploaded into my software, and the one that synthesized us after he tried to delete my original form. With it, I can go into your mind, relive your memories alongside you, and there you can prove to me why you are a worthy contender for my champion."

Jeroro shook his head, "She could steal them too. Leave you with nothing to remind you of who you are, removing any thought of your girl that would lead you to rescue her."

"Pssh, I am not going to do that. Pinky promise," Fate rolled her eyes, giving an snarky glare towards Jeroro.

Giroro pondered of his decision. If he said yes, who knew what type of maniacal trials this cynical entity would throw at him. And according to Jeroro, this AI even had the power to erase thoughts, or steal them for her own collection, leaving him leaving him an empty slate. He couldn't bear of the thought of not having any idea who Natsumi was, or being void of her lovely face, or voice, and soon it became quite clear of exactly why the old frog had gone to such extent to try to preserve those memories. Still, if he said no they would be back at square one, and Giroro didn't know how he would be able to face Ari if not through winning the tournament. Heh, there always seemed to be another obstacle. "I'll do it."

"Optimal choice," Fate chimed, smirking at her creator's disgusted visage. She stepped closer to Giroro until his breath shimmered against her transparent body and carefully stroked his cheek with her hand. A small jolt of electricity made the Keronian jump as the fibers of his felt cap stood on end, his heart pulsing with adrenaline from the voltage in his veins. "This might sting a bit," she teased, hesitating only long enough to catch a glimpse of horror pass the usually stalwart soldier's face before plunging her entire arm into Giroro's forehead.

* * *

><p><em><strong>-Cue spooky music- I'm alive! I'M ALIVE! <strong>_

_**Yeah, I didn't die. I realize I took a…six…month…break...**_

_**But at least I gave you a new chapter? That counts for something, right? Right? RIGHT?!**_

_**-disappears for another six months- (Hopefully not, but if I do at least I can say "I told you so")**_


End file.
